3 Ripples (OLD)
by SerpentBane007
Summary: During a botched teleportation spell, three Azerothian adventurers find themselves flung into the world of Alagaësia. What shockwaves will result from their arrival, and will new challengers rise to meet them? (I'm really shit at summaries). This story takes place between Legion and BFA. Please enjoy and feel free to review. OLD, please see the rewritten version on my profile.
1. Chapter 1: Portal Misshaps

Disclaimer: I own nothing here but my OCs, World of Warcraft belongs to Blizzard and the Inheritance Cycle belongs to Paolini. This takes place in the however many year time skip between Legion and BFA (I remember hearing somewhere that the skip was two years but idk for sure). Enjoy and feel free to drop a review (or PM me if that's more comfortable).

Edit: hello again, I realize from a review that I never stated what race Myra is. I've now added it, but thank you to the reader who caught it.

Wenowa awoke slowly, eyes fluttering open as sunlight streamed through the windows across her face. She turned her head to the right, only to be greeted with a faint indention on the other half of the bed. 'Of course,' she thought, 'he's always up early.'  
The tauren slowly stretched her arms above her head, groaning with relief as the joints finally popped. Standing she grabbed a loose tunic and pants before leaving the bedroom, hooves clicking against the purple tiles. Even after so much time in Dalaran, she still found it odd how the other races preferred stone and metal to wood and earth. Slipping on the clothes she noticed the open doors to the balcony, and the worgen male leaning against the railing.

"Up early as usual I see." Wenowa called as she approached. The worgen turned his head slightly, flaming blue orbs flitting to her before continuing to look out on the floating city of Dalaran.

"I slept enough before I got brought back." He said. "Besides, I was thinking."

"Worrying you mean." Wenowa playfully retorted as she draped her arms behind him in a loose hug, resting her head against his shoulder. "You worry too much Reimar. We're at peace, finally."

"It doesn't matter if we've been at peace for 100 years or one. I'm always worrying about you. About us." Reimar replied in smooth, if accented, Taur-ahe.

"You spoil me, it feels so good to hear my mother tongue." Wenowa laughed, giving Reimar a light peck on the cheek which he returned.

"I hate the ruin the moment," Reimar said, disentangling himself from Wenowa's arms, "but we have to go to work today. We should get ready to meet Myra." He finished, walking into the main house and down the stairs. Wenowa gave a last long look at the purple buildings of the city glinting in the bright sun before she returned to the main hallway. Taking a left turn she entered her armory and looked over the set of armor on the stand.

Unlike most druids, who prefered simple robes and the occasional piece of leather armor, Wenowa's was a set of full black and red leather armor, crafted in the style of the Houjin faction of Pandaren. She'd have to get Hoi something for her next nameday. Wenowa thought as she put on each piece, leather fitting snugly against her skin. Placing the wide brimmed red hat carefully between her horns, she quickly grabbed her Klaxxi glaive, running a finger along its edge. While needless, for the hardened amber of the Mantid rarely needed a whetstone, it was one of many rituals she had picked up from Reimar.

"You ready?" Reimar's metallic voice echoed up the stair.

"Coming." She called back, grabbing the small bag of herbs and potions that she always carried with her in case of emergencies. Descending the stairs she saw the death knight waiting by the door, donned in armor that could not be more different than her own. Where she wore sturdy leather, he wore heavy saronite armor. The deathlord plate was all deep blacks and greens, emitting a sickly green glow. Across his back was the massive curved sword he had taken from the clutches of a doomguard to replace the lost artifact Apocalypse. "Planning on scaring the population of this city half to death again?" Wenowa playfully asked.

"It's in my nature." He replied. "Plus it'll help where we're going." He said as he walked out the door and into the hustle and bustle of Dalaran's streets.

"And where exactly is that?" Wenowa asked, raising her voice to be heard above the crowds.

"The vrykul in Howling Fjord are causing trouble again, likely cause of what happened in Stormheim. We've been tasked with thinning them out a bit and figuring out who's leading them now." He replied, shooting a glare at a passing blood elf probably curios about the strange nature of the duo. The dominance of humans, blood elves, and gnomes made her and Reimar stand out even more, stares and quick glances always directed at them.

Wenowa sighed, most of her face beneath her wide brimmed hat. She couldn't blame them, cross faction relationships such as theirs were very rare, and never between their two races, though they had slowly sloughed off most of their faction allegiance. Not to mention the general animosity between druids and death knights.

That said, even if she disliked the layout of the magocratic city and some of its citizens, Wenowa could not deny that most of its people reminded her of her old home in Thunder Bluff. People scurried about their business, snippets of conversation flying through the air like birds through a forest. The tauren was snapped from her musings by a tap of a metal gauntlet on her shoulder. "Stay here, I'll get Myra." Reimar whispered from behind his deathlord plate helmet, walking towards the secluded patch of grass where followers of the Church of the Holy Light prayed. By the time Wenowa processed what was said Reimar was already entering the area, worshippers parting around him with looks of horror and unease as they moved closer to their small alters.

She was certain that this would not end well.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Myra sat in the lush grass, eyes closed as she hummed a simple prayer to the Light. She was young for a priest, newly elevated to the clergy when the Legion invaded Azeroth. 'Light.' She thought. 'You have set before me many hardships, and yet I have endured. But I sense that new conflict is coming. Please, give me the resolve to to mend the wounds between others preserve the peace you won for us.' The human girl ended her informal prayer and slowly placed her small figure, a miniature Narru, back into the small bag besides her.

"BOO!" A metallic, dead voice shouted behind her as an equally chilling hand grasped her shoulder. Myra shrieked and tumbled forward, eyes shooting open. She jumped to her feet in a panic, only to see Reimar rolling on the ground, howling in laughter as her fellow worshippers shot withering glares at the worgen.

"Damn you Reimar!" She shouted, calming her racing nerves. "Can't you just tap my shoulder like a normal person?!"

"I could, but where's the fun in that?" He asked, picking himself off the ground with continued chuckles.

Myra scowled in response, grabbing her staff, made of simple white wood and toppled with a small clear crystal. "Lets just go already." She said as she left, mouthing an apology to the people around her before walking towards Wenowa standing at the edge of the area. "It's good to see you though." She said with much more warmth as did her best to hug the tauren who towered above her.

"Likewise." Wenowa said, returning the embrace. "Reimar, lets go before you start a fight here. Again." She deadpanned as said worgen trudged back and they resumed their walk.

"That paladin insulted me. He deserved it. That bastard just wanted…" He continued to mutter to himself as Wenowa filled Myra in on their mission.

Ten minutes later the trio arrived at their destination: the Violet Gate, the main portal hub open to members of both the Alliance and Horde. Pushing their way through the crowds, the group eventually found a mage who was not busy. The thin human saw them and quickly gestured them over. "Greetings. How may I be of service to you today?"

"We need one portal to Kamagua, Howling Fjord, Northrend." Wenowa replied.

"...All three of you?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at the druid.

"Yes. Is that _inconvenient_ to you?" Reimar growled.

"N-no. No problem at all." The man replied hastily. "I'm just a simple portal mage, now follow me." He hurried up the stairs until he came to an empty room. "Here we are. Now, stand in front of me while I prepare the spell." He said as he stretched his hands out, purple arcane energy coalescing around them. As the group stood before him the energy around his hands flashed and was momentarily replaced with bronze and silver colors, before returning to their natural purple.

"Um, what was that?" Myra asked.

"It's fine, arcane has been a bit finicky since Dalaran moved above the Broken Isles." The mage quickly assured them.

"Then why don't we just-" Reimar was cut off the as portal began to form in front of them, though nothing on the other side could be seen. However, as the adventurers prepared to step into it, it vibrated violently, once again becoming twinged with silver and bronze.

"That's odd… give me a moment." The mage muttered, furrowing his brow as he redoubled his efforts and the magic around his burned brighter.

"No wait I don't this this is a goo-" Reimar protested before the portal began to extend towards them, now shaking even more violently and fluctuating between its healthy purple and the silver spreading across it. With a loud crack the portal and adventurers disappeared, the mage thrown backwards into the stone wall. Standing up the thin human realized what had just happened: he had, through no fault of his own he could identify, just created an unstable portal that had sent three of Azeroth's prized adventurers to Light knows where.

"I'm so fucking dead." He gasped as he rushed towards the Violet Citadel to find Khadgar.


	2. Chapter 2: Collision

Disclaimer: I own nothing here but my OCs, World of Warcraft belongs to Blizzard and the Inheritance Cycle belongs to Paolini. This takes place in the however many year time skip between Legion and BFA (I remember hearing somewhere that the skip was two years but idk for sure).

Many thanks to LaPrawn, Raefyn, Zneazul, and Aksis for following/favoriting/reviewing, it means a lot to me (as I've been toying with the idea of this story for over a year now in my drive). So without further ado, enjoy this latest chapter and as usual feel free to drop a review (or PM me if that's more comfortable).

"Myra, wake up." Myra heard as she slowly came to. Groaning she opened her eyes and saw that she was in a sparse forest, propped up against a tree.

"My head..." She groaned as she started to stand, looking over to Reimar, who stood several feet away with his massive curved sword held loosely in his hand. "What happened?"

"To put it simply," Reimar growled, lips peeling back from his teeth, "that IDIOT of a mage messed up his teleportation spell and we're in some Light-forsaken land called Alagaesia."

"Wait…" Myra said, racking her brain, "how long was I out? And how do you know that much already?"

"About half a day, me and Wenowa questioned," The human girl sighed, she knew the death knight's preferred method of questioning, "a few soldiers of the 'Empire' that rules these parts, they told us a bit about the Empire, as well as some unintelligible babblings about some so called dragon riders, a group of rebels called the Varden and some version of elves." Reimar waved his clawed hand dismissively.

"There's elves here! Then this must be some alternate version of Azeroth! That means-"

"Nope." Reimar cut her off. "It's not Azeroth, Wenowa says it doesn't 'feel right,' according to her druid magic. Plus I can't use my death gate to Acherus."

"Are you sure?" Myra asked, the idea of being on a completely new world brought back foul memories from Argus.

"Here, I'll show you." Reimar huffed before striding a few steps away and raising his hands. Dark magic swirled around his hands as he began weaving shapes in the air, corresponding to the glowing runes on his weapon. A black gate appeared to take shape for a moment, before dissipating along with the aura around the death knight. "Convinced?"

Before Myra could respond a large horned bird dove out of the sky, wind rushing as its wings shot open to slow its descent. Green energy briefly enveloped its form as it expanded, and Wenowa strode through it.

"You're back. What did you find?" Reimar asked the druid.

"Well I scouted out that city like you said, and… well a dragon tore the roof of the castle open and escaped with three people on its back." Wenowa said, still in slight disbelief.

"Think they're with these rebels?" Reimar asked, to which Wenowa gave a simple nod. "In that case, we should probably get on good terms with them."

"Wait." Myra cut in. "What about the soldiers? They'll undoubtedly be searching for them."

"I doubt they can catch up with them on dragonback." Wenowa replied. "We have a head start, and I saw the direction the dragon was travelling. I'll guide us from the air."

"And if the search parties catch up I can thin them out a bit." Reimar laughed as Wenowa shifted into her bird form once more, though holding at a relatively lower height. "Though I'm afraid you'll have to ride with me." The worgen said to Myra as he whistled into the distance, his deathcharger appearing from the treeline.

"N-no." Myra stuttered. Her instincts screamed at her to be as far away from the undead creature as possible. "I c-c-can't I'm a priestess I-"

"You don't have a choice." Reimar deadpanned as he climbed onto the large horse. "Unless you want to walk however many leagues that dragon travels." Myra swallowed past the lump in her throat as she reluctantly climbed into the saddle behind him. With that they took off after Wenowa's receding form and, hopefully, more answers.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Eragon reluctantly dragged himself upright, his aching muscles screaming that he continue his rest. "We should make a bed for her." He said to Murtagh, gesturing to the unconscious elf they had rescued from Gil'ead.

Murtagh got to his feet and stretched out a blanket for the elf. When they lifted her onto it, the cuff of her sleeve tore on a branch. Eragon began to pinch the fabric together, then gasped. The elf's arm was mottled with a layer of bruises and cuts; some were half healed, while others were fresh and oozing. Eragon shook his head with anger and pulled the sleeve up higher. The injuries continued to her shoulder. With trembling fingers, he unlaced the back of her shirt, dreading what might be under it. Murtagh cursed, for while the elf's back was strong and muscled, it was covered with scabs that made her skin look like dry, cracked mud. She had been whipped mercilessly and branded with hot irons in the shape of claws. Where her skin was still unbroken, it was purple and black from numerous beatings. On her left shoulder was a tattoo inscribed with indigo ink, the same symbol that had been on the sapphire of Brom's ring. Eragon silently swore to kill whoever was responsible for torturing the elf.

"Can you heal this?" asked Murtagh.

"I—I don't know," said Eragon. He swallowed back sudden queasiness. "There's so much."

 _Eragon!_ Saphira said sharply. _This is an elf. She cannot be allowed to die. Tired or not, hungry or not, you must save her. I will meld my strength with yours, but you are the one who must wield the magic._

 _Yes . . . you are right,_ he murmured, unable to tear his eyes from the elf. Determined, he pulled off his gloves and said to Murtagh, "This is going to take some time. Can you get me food? Also, boil rags for bandages; I can't heal all her wounds."

"I believe we may be of help in that regard." A low voice called from the treeline. Immediately Murtagh was on his feet, sword in hand. Eragon did the same, but uneasily as his head swam and muscles continued to ache. Saphira let loose a mighty roar, the sound reverberating through the trees like shockwaves.

"Tell your dragon to stand down, we mean you no harm." A higher and lighter voice called from the bushes.

"Come out where we can see you." Eragon said.

Three figures slowly emerged from the treeline. The first was rather ordinary, a young woman not much older or taller than Eragon himself (A/N: His canon height is 5'10"). Her coppery hair contrasted against her white and gold robes, and light brown eyes filled with curiosity and a twinge of fear as they shot to the blue dragon. Slung across her back was a white wooden staff, capped with a small clear crystal.

The next figure to emerge made Eragon question what he was seeing, quickly shaking his head to ensure it wasn't the delusions of his exhausted mind. They were female, and resembled a humanoid bovine, though she stood a full foot taller than him. Her hide was a light brown, and two long braids of hair were draped forward over her chest. Red and black leather armor (add detail about style) covered her from hoof to horns, topped with a wide brimmed red hat. Her dark brown eyes were filled with calm reassurance, and held a warmth similar to Saphira's. She carried a long glaive made of some orange, wicked sharp metal.

It was the final figure that sent shivers up his spine. A being only describable as a nightmare cross between man and wolf emerged, half a foot taller than the last. In contrast to the others, his armor was heavy plate, colored in dark black and green. A sickly green aura emanated from the skulls etched throughout the armor, as well as the helmet that hid his face. A massive curved sword was slung over her back, bone white runes glowing on the cold steel.

"Well, at least they speak Common here." Dragon flicnched at his voice, a metallic echo crashing with each word. Saphira hissed and tensed, eyes burning through the wolfman with pure hatred. "Control that dragon. Now!" He yelled as he extended hand, sickly green miasma forming around the clawed appendage.

 _Saphira do not attack!_ Eragon pleaded. He wanted nothing more than to fight that creature. _They want to help._

 _It smells like death and destruction_! Saphira yelled back with equal force, sounding like she was straining herself to merely talk to him. _I must destroy it!_

 _Saphira!_

 _...Fine._ Saphira said, lowering her head as her emotions abated. _But when it attacks I won't hold back._

"Who and what are you?" Murtagh yelled, sword still held defensively.

"I am Myra Emsworth," the human answered, "and these are Wenowa Summerhoof" she gestured to the bovine, "and Reimar." She gestured to the final stranger. "Who are you?"

"My name is Eragon." Eragon replied. "That's Murtagh and this is Saphira. We don't know who the elf is, but she was imprisoned with us."

"Oh Light." Myra gasped as she ran forward, caution thrown to the wind in sight of the elf's hideous injuries. "Who did this to her?"

"The Empire." Murtagh spat.

"This Empire is sounding worse and worse by the minute." Reimar spat.

 _What do you mean "this Empire?" And you still haven't said what you are._ Saphira bluntly stated to the group.

"Well that's different than back home." Wenowa remarked quietly. "Well, as I'm sure you've guessed we're not exactly from these parts, but we have no idea how we got here. As for what we are, my people are called Tauren, and his Worgen."

Eragon had so many questions, but decided to ignore them for now as Myra began to chant in his tongue, despite golden energy appearing around her hands. "How are you doing that? You're not speaking the ancient language!" He asked as the elf's wounds began to seal under the rays of golden light.

"Ancient language?" Myra asked. "Do you not know of the Light?"

"Light? What is-"

"Myra. Stay focused." Reimar cut through the conversation. "How is the elf?" He asked a tense few moments later.

"Bad." Myra sighed as she stood up, light disappearing. "I've healed most of the surface wounds, but something is fighting me from repairing the deeper damage. I'll have to give it time and see what it is."

"Then we need to go. Now." Murtagh said. "You've probably seen the patrols by now, but they're after us. And we need to go now."

"I agree." Reimar said. "I'll buy you some time. Wenowa, you and Myra follow them. I'll try to distract the patrols and thins their ranks. Find out everything you can about where we are." Reimar said the last part in a language that Eragon could not understand, made of low moans and guttural sounds.

"Fine." The newly defined Tauren said in the same language, though with more ease than the other. "Please, be careful." She all but whispered as she embraced him, planting a light kiss on his helmet.

"We faced down the Legion on Argus. This will be fine." He laughed as he whistled into the distance. A couple seconds passed before a horse came trotting into sight. Eragon gasped for what felt like the hundredth time today. It's skin had turned pale purple from rot and in some places was gone all together. Spectral blue flames came from it's hooves, and ran down it's back in the place of a mane. The usually soulful eyes of a horse were replaced with flaming blue orbs that roved over the group.

"Don't just stand there. Ride!" Reimar called to the shocked trio as he mounted and took off into the forest, massive sword held loosely in one hand.

"He's right. We have to get going." Murtagh said, mounting Tornac. "I'm sorry Eragon but you'll have to sleep in the saddle."

"I'll manage." Eragon grumbled as he secured the elf to Saphira with Myra's help. "But how will they follow us?"

"That won't be an issue. Hop on Myra." Wenowa said as green energy enveloped her. When it dissipated a large deer stood where she once was.

"I know you all have questions." Myra said as she climbed onto the deer that Eragon could only assume was Wenowa. "But once we're clear of these soldiers you can ask all the ones you want."

Eragon nodded, still in shock, as he forced himself into Snowfire's saddle. As Murtagh tied Snowfire to Tornac Saphira rose once more into the sky.

 _You need to sleep little one._ Her voice reverberated through his mind as his eyes grew heavy.

 _I know._ He responded as he gave in to his body's fatigue. _I just have so many questions._ He shot one last glance to the girl now riding a stag next to him as he leaned into Snowfire and drifted into a fitful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3: Prey

Disclaimer: I own nothing here but my OCs, World of Warcraft belongs to Blizzard and the Inheritance Cycle belongs to Paolini. This takes place in the however many year time skip between Legion and BFA (I remember hearing somewhere that the skip was two years but idk for sure).

A very special thanks to Darkdragondude1234, who's helped me with some ideas for this story. That said, enjoy this latest chapter and as usual feel free to drop a review (or PM me if that's more comfortable).

Wenowa groaned as they made camp, joints straining as she rested against a tree trunk. For an entire day they had run, and for an entire day she had pushed herself to the limits of her deer form.

"Sorry about you having to carry me today." Myra said as she sat next to her, wincing as her legs lowered her to the ground.

"Nothing to be sorry about, there was no way around it." Wenowa responded as pulled out some herbs from her bag. "Here, these should ease the joints." She handed half to Myra as she swallowed them with a drink from her waterskin. Myra nodded in thanks as she did the same, coughing at their bitterness.

"We can't keep up this pace; we aren't gaining any ground on the soldiers. Another day or two of this and they'll be sure to overtake us." Murtagh said.

"Reimar should have dealt with them by now, he will join us again soon." Wenowa called from the edges of the fire.  
"And if he hasn't?" Eragon snapped. "What else can we do? If it were just me and Murtagh and he weas willing to leave Tornac behind, Saphira could fly us out of here. But with the elf and you two, too? Impossible."  
Murtagh looked at him carefully. "If you want to go your own way, I won't stop you. I can't expect you and Saphira to stay and risk imprisonment."  
"Don't insult me," Eragon muttered. "The only reason I'm free is because of you. I'm not going to abandon you to the Empire. Poor thanks that would be!"  
Murtagh bowed his head. "Your words hearten me." He paused. "But they don't solve our problem."  
"What can?" Eragon asked. He gestured at the elf. "I wish she could tell us where the elves are; perhaps we could seek sanctuary with them."

"I can try to ease her into consciousness, but I can't guarantee anything." Myra offered as she reluctantly stood up and made her way to the elf, gripping her naaru talisman.

"Considering how they've protected themselves, I doubt she'd reveal their location." Murtagh countered "Even if she did, the others of her kind might not welcome us. Why would they want to shelter us anyway? The last Riders they had contact with were Galbatorix and the Forsworn. I doubt that left them with pleasant memories. And I don't even have the dubious honor of being a Rider like you. No, they would not want me at all."  
 _They would accept us_ ,said Saphira confidently as she shifted her wings to a more comfortable position.

Eragon shrugged. "Even if they would protect us, we can't find them, and it's impossible to ask the elf until she regains consciousness. We must flee, but in which direction— north, south, east, or west?"  
Murtagh laced his fingers together and pressed his thumbs against his temples. "I think the only thing we can do is leave the Empire. The few safe places within it are far from here. They would be difficult to reach without being caught or followed. . . . There's nothing for us to the north except the forest Du Weldenvarden—which we might be able to hide in, but I don't relish going back past Gil'ead. Only the Empire and the sea lie westward. To the south is Surda, where you might be able to find someone to direct you to the Varden. As for going east . . ." He shrugged. "To the east, the Hadarac Desert stands between us and whatever lands exist in that direction. The Varden are somewhere across it, but without directions it might take us years to find them."  
 _We would be safe, though_ , remarked Saphira. _As long as we didn't encounter any Urgals_.

"A desert is anything but safe." Wenowa countered. "I speak from experience, that expanse of sand is more unforgiving than any other."  
Eragon knitted his brow. A headache threatened to drown his thoughts in hot throbs. "It's too dangerous to go to Surda. We would have to traverse most of the Empire, avoiding every town and village. There are too many people between us and Surda to get there unnoticed."  
Murtagh raised an eyebrow. "So you want to go across the desert?"  
"I don't see any other options. Besides, that way we can leave the Empire before the Ra'zac get here. With their flying steeds, they'll probably arrive in Gil'ead in a couple of days, so we don't have much time."  
"Even if we do reach the desert before they get here," said Murtagh, "they could still overtake us. It'll be hard to outdistance them at all."  
Eragon rubbed Saphira's side, her scales rough under his fingers. "That's assuming they can follow our trail. To catch us, though, they'll have to leave the soldiers behind, which is to our advantage. If it comes to a fight, I think with our combined strength," Eragon paused, "especially yours, we can defeat them . . . as long as we aren't ambushed the way Brom and I were."  
"Even if we were to cross the desert successfully," said Murtagh slowly, "where would we go? Those lands are well outside of the Empire. There will be few cities, if any. And then there is the desert itself. What do you know of it?"  
"Only that it's hot, dry, and full of sand," confessed Eragon.  
"That about sums it up," replied Murtagh. "It's filled with poisonous and inedible plants, venomous snakes, scorpions, and a blistering sun. You saw the great plain on our way to Gil'ead?"

"Sounds just like Silithus." Myra muttered.  
It was a rhetorical question, but Eragon answered anyway, "Yes, and once before."

"Then you are familiar with its immense range. It fills the heart of the Empire. Now imagine something two or three times its size, and you'll understand the vastness of the Hadarac Desert. That is what you're proposing to cross."  
Eragon tried to envision a piece of land that gigantic but was unable to grasp the distances involved. He retrieved the map of Alagaësia from his saddlebags. The parchment smelled musty as he unrolled it on the ground. He inspected the plains and shook his head in amazement. "No wonder the Empire ends at the desert. Everything on the other side is too far away for Galbatorix to control."  
Murtagh swept his hand over the right side of the parchment. "All the land beyond the desert, which is blank on this map, was under one rule when the Riders lived. If the king were to raise up new Riders under his command, it would allow him to expand the Empire to an unprecedented size. But that wasn't the point I was trying to make. The Hadarac Desert is so huge and contains so many dangers, the chances are slim that we can cross it unscathed. It is a desperate path to take."  
"Last I checked we are desperate," said Eragon firmly. He studied the map carefully. "If we rode through the belly of the desert, it would take well over a month, perhaps even two, to cross it. But if we angle southeast, toward the Beor Mountains, we could cut through much faster. Then we can either follow the Beor Mountains farther east into the wilderness or go west to Surda. If this map is accurate, the distance between here and the Beors is roughly equal to what we covered on our way to Gil'ead."  
"But that took us nearly a month!"  
Eragon shook his head impatiently. "Our ride to Gil'ead was slow on account of my injuries. If we press ourselves, it'll take only a fraction of that time to reach the Beor Mountains."

"But what about them?" Murtagh pointed to Wenowa and Myra.

"We will be able to keep up, we've been through worse." Wenowa assured them.  
"Enough. You made your point," acknowledged Murtagh. "Before I consent, however, something must be solved. As I'm sure you noticed, I bought supplies for us and the horses while I was in Gil'ead. But how can we get enough water? The roving tribes who live in the Hadarac usually disguise their wells and oases so no one can steal their water. And carrying enough for more than a day is impractical. Just think about how much Saphira drinks! She and the horses consume more water at one time than we do in a week. Unless either of you can make it rain whenever we need, I don't see how we can go the direction you propose." He gestured to both Rider and druid.

"I'm afraid I'm no shaman. If only Thelra was here." Wenowa muttered, hand cupping her chin as she thought.  
Eragon rocked back on his heels. Making rain was well beyond his power. He suspected that not even the strongest Rider could have done it. Moving that much air was like trying to lift a mountain. He needed a solution that would not drain all of his strength.  
"I have an idea," he said. "Let me experiment, then I'll give you an answer." Eragon strode out of the camp, with Saphira following closely. Wenowa watched him for a moment before turning her attention to Myra as the human set out her bedroll next to her.

"How is the elf?"

"Not much better." Myra sighed. "There is little I can do, something is fighting my attempts to the more severe injuries."

"Magic?"

"I can't tell, and the Light hasn't granted me any revelations."

Wenowa looked up at the alien sky, easing her breathing as she calmed her mind with the techniques her father taught her. Closing her eyes she began to drift into unconsciousness as her body demanded rest. Her last thought before losing consciousness was of Reimar, hoping that he did not become careless in this unknown world.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Well well, they've finally stopped." Reimar muttered from his place in the shadows, he had been tracking the soldiers for some time now, and they had finally stopped to rest their horses. Weak, no wonder the boy and his dragon had been able to outpace them. Creeping closer he gauged the soldiers that he saw. About twenty or thirty soldiers were ringed around various campfires, with lookouts patrolling the perimeter. Their gear was in a sorry state, leather and chainmail dirty and discolored, and most carried simple shortswords or spears with a handful of archers. All wore a crimson tabard with a single red string wrapping around itself like a flame. He spotted several robed and hooded men sitting apart from the others, who he could only guess were magicians of some sort.

Reimar let a wolfish grin creep across his face as he put his deathlord helmet on. He felt the hunger building up within him, the hunger all death knights had to satisfy to retain their sanity. "Easy prey." He laughed as he crept towards the first lookout, who held his bow nonchalantly as he lazily eyed the treeline. Reimar leapt up, wrapping a large gauntleted hand around his mouth and he swiftly dragged him into the treeline. Before the man could scream Reimar quickly snapped his neck. Standing he let a miasma grow around his hands before extending his hand and letting the energy enter the fresh corpse before him. The man's eyes shot open once more, not devoid of any life, staring blankly as he rose and his head lolled to the side. "Stay here." He ordered his new servant as he crept away.

The death knight repeated the process several times until there was only one lookout left, who had run back to what he could only guess was the commander when he noticed that his comrades had disappeared. Now was his time. Stepping out of the forest Reimar let a howl rip out of his throat, the soldiers jumping in surprise and fear as the bestial sound mixed with the clashing of metal in his voice. But it paled in comparison compared to the horror they felt when they saw the voice's owner, as they quickly rushed together and readier their weapons.

The commander stood now, cautiously taking a step towards the worgen as he drew his sword. "Who are you-" He was cut off as purple energy grabbed hold of him, sending him flying towards the stranger. Reimar spun as he drew his sword and swung, bisecting the man as his runeblade cut through the armor like paper. The two bloody halves sailed past him before impacting against the trees.

"Who's next?" Reimar taunted. The soldiers paused for a moment before letting out a panicked cry as they charged him. "NOW!" He yelled as the first soldier approached him. His ghouls rushed through the treeline as the set in on the soldiers on the flanks, tearing into anything nearby, ripping limbs off as blood sprayed onto it. There was a flurry of panic as they turned on the ghouls. Perfect.

Reimar dashed to the first soldier with speed that should have been impossible in his armor, splitting the man's head with his massive blade. Parrying another blow he gutted the next man, then decapitated three who had been foolish enough to stand close together. Their bodies crumpled to the ground. Meanwhile the ghouls had made short work of the first soldiers as more dead rose with them as Reimar continued carving a blood swathe through their ranks. An archer took aim, only to find himself stuck to a tree as Reimar threw his sword like a spear, impaling the man through his chest. As the ghouls began overwhelming the rank and file soldiers Reimar turned his attention to the hooded spellcasters, who were desperately fending off the ghouls.

"Garzjla!" One of them shouted as a red bolt burst from his hand. Reimar twisted, projectile sailing mere inches past his head as the spellcaster dropped to one knee. Upon them now Reimar dropped the first one with a shard of ice to the heart as the second one still standing fell to a ghoul who had taken him from behind. Kneeling down to face the third his claws shot out to grab the man's throat, lifting him high in the air.

"Now, you're going to tell me everything I want to know." Reimar growled, removing his helmet to let the magician stare into the balls of blue fire that were his eyes.

"Go….to...hell!" The man gasped out as a he produced a knife from his sleeve and slashed at Reimar's cheek. The worgen simply squeezed harder on the man's throat, forcing him to drop the weapon as the skin of his face slowly knit itself back together. "W-h-hat-" Reimar cut the man off and squeezed, throat collapsing under his strong hands.

Dropping the lifeless body to the ground, Reimar took a moment to survey the remains of the camp, about twenty ghouls awaiting his command. With a snap of his fingers he released them, lifeless bodies falling to the ground like sacks of rocks. Resummoning his deathcharger he took off at an incredible speed back the way he came, waiting to pick up Wenowa's scent. He could track it for miles with his enhanced senses, he only prayed that they had not gone too far.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"So, this is what happened to the scouting parties."

"Indeed. It's as if they were set upon by one of us. Do you think this is related to the stranger?"

"It likely is. They claimed that others less...open to our plans would come. Track them down, and eliminate them if you must. But learn all you can of them Rizera, their abilities will be useful for our plans."

"It shall be done my lady."

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this, and don't forget to vote in the poll on my profile page!


	4. Chapter 4: Ramr

Disclaimer: I own nothing here but my OCs, World of Warcraft belongs to Blizzard and the Inheritance Cycle belongs to Paolini. This takes place in the however many year time skip between Legion and BFA (I remember hearing somewhere that the skip was two years but idk for sure). Enjoy this latest chapter and as usual feel free to drop a review (or PM me if that's more comfortable).

They forced themselves to rise early in the gray predawn hours, Myra shivering in the  
cool air. With a plan for finding water promised by Eragon they were ready to cross the vast Hadarac. Myra however was wary of it, the deserts of Azeroth were among the most dangerous locations on the planet, which left her with little hope for this one to be any better.

"How are we going to transport the elf?" Eragon asked. "She can't ride on Saphira's back much longer without getting sores from her scales. Saphira can't carry her in her claws either, it'll tire her and make landing dangerous. A sledge won't work; it would get battered to pieces while we ride, and I don't want the horses slowed by the weight of another person."

"I won't be able to carry her and Myra, it'll slow us down too much." Wenowa said.  
Murtagh considered the matter as he saddled Tornac. "If you were to ride Saphira, we could lash the elf onto Snowfire, but we'd have the same problem with sores."

 _I have a solution_ , said Saphira unexpectedly. _Why don't you tie the elf to my belly? I'll still be able to move freely, and she will be safer than anywhere else. The only danger will be if soldiers shoot arrows at me, but I can easily fly above those_.

"I doubt we'll come up with a better idea." Wenowa agreed, still getting used to the mental conversations started by the blue dragoness. Eragon and the others agreed, the boy folding one of his blankets in half lengthwise before securing it around the elf's petite form, then taking her to Saphira. Blankets and spare clothes were sacrificed to form ropes long enough to encircle Saphira's girth. With those ropes, the elf was tied back-first against Saphira's belly, her head between Saphira's front legs. Eragon looked critically at their handiwork.

"I'm afraid your scales may rub through the ropes."

"We'll have to check them occasionally for fraying," commented Murtagh.

"Indeed." Pausing for a moment, which Wenowa could guess indicated that his dragon was talking to him, he then turned back to the group. "Shall we go now?"

"Have you all forgotten about me already? I'm hurt." A voice called before anyone could answer. Reimar's large armored form emerged from the brush, helmet clipped to his belt. Eragon and Saphira recoiled when they saw his eyes, previously hidden behind the metal, for they were two balls of cold blue flame.

"Reimar!" Wenowa yelled in joy as she ran to him. They embraced tightly before Wenowa pressed their foreheads together, holding the worgen there. "You're ok!"

"Ha! After all we've been through you shouldn't worry so much!" Reimar laughed as they embraced again.

Murtagh and Eragon exchanged a confused glance with each other and turned to Myra. "Are they…"

"Yes, they are together." Myra said, faint smile on her face as she wiped dirt from her robes. "Oddest combination Azeroth could devise, but they've made it work so far."

 _I don't see how anyone could stand to be with that thing._ Saphira said to Eragon, venom in her voice.

 _Saphira! What exactly is your problem with him?_ Eragon asked.

 _That thing is unnatural, shouldn't be. I can smell it._

"Where exactly were you?" Murtagh asked, tearing everyone back to the present.

"Taking care of the soldiers chasing you. They won't bother you, but we shouldn't test our luck by giving others time to catch up." He pointed to the faint smoke barely visible in the distance, likely another group of soldiers or a town.

"Agreed." Murtagh said as he mounted Tornac, the others doing the same. This time Myra climbed onto Reimar's mount to give Wenowa a break from her weight. "I always did like races." His eyes sparked dangerously as a smile crept onto is face."

"And now we're in one for our lives!" Eragon yelled. Murtagh swung into Tornac's saddle and trotted out of the camp. Eragon followed close behind on Snowfire. Saphira jumped into the air with the elf, flying low to the ground to avoid being seen by the soldiers. Reimar let out his own quick yell as he urged his deathcharger on, Wenowa following close behind in deer form. In this fashion, the group made their way southeast toward the distant Hadarac Desert.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The group stopped at the crest of a small hill, water roaring below them as it tore over boulders and sluiced through branches.

"The Ramr!" Eragon shouted over the noise. They had ridden for the better part of two days now, stopping to rest only once and even running as the horses rested. Wenowa had several times ridden with Reimar to rest, during which Myra would ride with Eragon or Murtagh.  
Murtagh nodded. "Yes! We have to find a place to ford safely."

 _That isn't necessary_ , said Saphira. _I can carry you across, no matter how wide the river is_.

Eragon looked up at her blue-gray form. _What about the horses? We can't leave them behind. They're too heavy for you to lift._ He also glanced to Reimar's heavily armored form. _And I doubt you want to fly him._

 _As long as you're not on them and they don't struggle too much, I'm sure that I can carry them. If I can dodge arrows with three people on my back, I can certainly fly a horse in a straight line over a river._

 _I believe you, but let's not attempt it unless we have to. It's too dangerous_. Eragon replied

She clambered down the embankment. _We can't afford to squander time here._  
Eragon followed her, leading Snowfire. The bank came to an abrupt end at the Ramr, where the river ran dark and swift. White mist wafted up from the water, like blood steaming in winter. It was impossible to see the far side. Murtagh tossed a branch into the torrent and watched it race away, bobbing on the rough water.

"How deep do you think it is?" asked Eragon.

"I can't tell," said Murtagh, worry coloring his voice. "Can you see how far across it is with magic?"

"I don't think so, not without lighting up this place like a beacon."

Before Murtaugh could reply a green flash appeared behind them, Wenowa shooting into the air like and arrow and flying to the other side, quickly dissappearing over the Ramr. After some time, she returned, stumbling slightly as she transformed back into her bipedal form. "The river is over a half-mile wide, we're at the widest bend that I can see. We couldn't have chosen a worse place to cross if we tried." The druid explained

"A half-mile!" exclaimed Eragon. He told Murtagh about Saphira's offer to fly them.

"I'd rather not try it, for the horses' sake. Tornac isn't as accustomed to Saphira as Snowfire. He might panic and injure them both. Ask Saphira to look for shallows where we can swim over safely. If there aren't any within a mile in either direction, then I suppose she can ferry us."

"I can cross with the horses" Reimar said as he extended his hand for their reins.

"Impossible." Murtagh said. "I don't care what you claim to be able to do, you're-"

"Do you want to get captured by the Empire?" Reimar growled. "Because right now you're giving them a golden opportunity."

Murtagh's face contorted with anger for a moment before he took a deep breath. "Fine. Do what you wish, but no harm shall come to Tornac." He turned to Eragon. "I'll fly over first to meet with the horses and untie the elf." He said as he scrambled into Saphira's saddle, who took off into the air. Wenowa likewise reverted to her bird form and followed after the blue dragoness.

Grasping the reins of both horses and tying them to his saddle the death knight urged his steed onward towards the river. As its hooves made contact with the river the water began to change into small patches of ice beneath its hooves. Reimar extended his hand, blue front gathering around his arm as the ice rapidly spread outward, freezing the rushing river into a platform suitable for the horses.

"How has he not kneeled over already?" Eragon asked Myra while keeping an eye out for the telltale torches of the Empire's soldiers.

"What do you mean?" The priestess asked.

"From using so much magic." Eragon said as Reimar broke into a gallop, quickly disappearing from sight. "No one can have that much energy for such a spell!"

Myra looked at him curiously. "I'm sorry but I still don't understand. Does your magic have such a requirement?" Seeing his equally confused face Myra held up her hand to stop him. "Look, once we cross the river and get into the desert we will have time to figure out what the hell has happened. Fair?"

Finally Saphira came for him, and they were soon on firm ground once more, with the Ramr to their backs. Once the horses were calmed and the saddles readjusted, they resumed their flight toward the Beor Mountains. The air filled with the calls of birds waking to a new day.

Eragon dozed even when walking. He was barely aware that Murtagh was just as drowsy. There were times when neither of them guided the horses, and it was only Saphira's vigilance that kept them on course.

Eventually the ground became soft and gave way under their feet, forcing them to halt. The sun was high overhead. The Ramr River was no more than a fuzzy line behind them. They had reached the Hadarac Desert.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A vast expanse of dunes spread to the horizon like ripples on an ocean. Bursts of wind twirled the reddish gold sand into the air. Scraggly trees grew on scattered patches of solid ground—ground any farmer would have declared unfit for crops. Rising in the distance was a line of purple crags. The imposing desolation was barren of any animals except for a bird gliding on the zephyrs.

"You're sure we'll find food for the horses out there?" queried Eragon, slurring his words. The hot, dry air stung his throat.

"See those?" asked Murtagh, indicating the crags. "Grass grows around them. It's short and tough, but the horses will find it sufficient."

"Already this is better than Silithus or Tanaris, at least there is food to be found." Wenowa said.

"I hope you're right," said Eragon, squinting at the sun. "Before we continue, let's rest. My mind is slow as a snail, and I can barely move my legs. And," his voice dropped to a whisper now, "we can find out who they really are."

They untied the elf from Saphira, ate, then lay in the shadow of a dune for a nap. As Eragon settled into the sand, Saphira coiled up next to him and spread her wings over them. _This is a wondrous place_ , she said. _I could spend years here and not notice the passing time._

Eragon closed his eyes. _It would be a nice place to fly_ , he agreed drowsily.

 _Not only that, I feel as though I was made for this desert. It has the space I need, mountains where I could roost, and camouflaged prey that I could spend days hunting. And the warmth! Cold does not disturb me, but this heat makes me feel alive and full of energy_. She craned her head toward the sky, stretching happily.

 _You like it that much?_ Mumbled Eragon.

 _Yes._

 _Then when this ordeal is over, perhaps we can return. . . ._ He drifted into slumber even as he spoke. Saphira was pleased and hummed gently while he and Murtagh rested.

It was the morning of the fourth day since leaving Gil'ead. They had already covered thirty-five leagues.

They slept just long enough to clear their minds and rest the horses. No soldiers could be seen to the rear, but that did not lull them into slowing their pace. They knew that the Empire would keep searching until they were far beyond the king's reach. "Couriers must have carried news of my escape to Galbatorix." Eragon said. "He would have alerted the Ra'zac. They're sure to be on our trail by now. It'll take them a while to catch us even by flying, but we should be ready for them at all times."

Murtagh scratched his chin. "I hope they won't be able to follow us past Bullridge. The Ramr is an effective way to lose pursuers, there's a good chance our tracks won't be found again."

"Who exactly are these Ra'zac? They sound like they would be a good fight." Reimar asked.

"Galbatorix's elite servants." Eragon spat. "I am sure they are not human, but they have been chasing me and Saphira since I found her egg. They were the ones that ki...killed my uncle an-and Brom." Eragon's voice was heavy with grief.

"I'm truly sorry." Myra said, eyes filled with understanding. "We've all lost ones close to us."

"Yes." Eragon agreed. "But I believe you three owe us some explanations. What are you? Where are you from? And how can you do such feats of magic," he gestured to Wenowa's deer form, "without dying?"

"Well, technically mine did." Reimar laughed, a harsh sound. "But the story of our world is a long one, and while I know most of it there are many pieces missing."

"We certainly not short of time." Murtagh replied, gazing on the vast expanse of desert.

A/N: Feel free to vote in the poll on my profile page if you haven't, I'll be closing it once the chapter after this one goes live.


	5. Chapter 5: Who are you?

Disclaimer: I own nothing here but my OCs, World of Warcraft belongs to Blizzard and the Inheritance Cycle belongs to Paolini. This takes place in the however many year time skip between Legion and BFA (I remember hearing somewhere that the skip was two years but idk for sure).

Many thanks to Aksis for reviewing, it means a lot. That said, enjoy this latest chapter and as usual feel free to drop a review (or PM me if that's more comfortable).

"So, does any of that make sense?" Wenowa asked from across the campfire. They had talked all through their ride and into the night when they made camp, with Eragon, Murtagh and Saphira frequently asking questions. Occasionally Wenowa or Myra would resort to showing the three mental images of various races or individuals for reference, but even so Eragon was overwhelmed by the sheer scale of their world. And they claimed it was a brief overview of their history and people.

"That...is a lot to take in." Eragon said.

"I don't blame you, even we don't fully understand everything about Azeroth or Draenor." Reimar laughed.

"But what about you?" Murtagh asked. "While you explained your world, who are you as people?"

"I think Myra can explain first, hers is the simplest story." Reimar said, extending his hand to the human girl.

"Honestly there isn't much to tell." Myra said, rubbing her shoulder. "I was born in Westfall in the Eastern Kingdoms. Westfall is a mostly human populated area, and I went to the Northshire Abbey to become a priestess of the Holy Light. I finished my training there shortly before the third invasion of the Burning Legion." She gestured to the druid and death knight. "That's where I met them and decided to give the adventurer's life a try."

"What is this Holy Light you speak of?" Murtaugh asked. "You've mentioned it several times but I still don't know what it is."

"Well…" Myra paused, trying to find the words, "the best description I've heard is that the Light is is an endless, shimmering sea of energy situated outside the barriers of reality. It is a positive energy residing in most beings, but there are some who can wield it as either a weapon or tool of healing."

"That energy when you healed the elf!" Eragon exclaimed. "That magic was the Light?"

"In a way." Mrya nodded. "The Light is channeled through holy magic, but we do not expend energy to use it, nor do we have control over it. We pray and call upon the Light to lend itself to us, but it can be fickle."

 _Much like my own magic._ Saphira said privately to Eragon.

"It seems that my story is next." Wenowa took over. "I was born in Mulgore to the chieftain of a small village outside Thunder Bluff. My father was a respected warrior, my mother a hunter. I, however, felt the call of the Earthmother to become a druid." Bright green energy danced around her hand before fading. "Becoming a druid is no small task, it took me many months to master my first animal form. After years of study I set out with other members of the Cenarion Circle, the neutral druidic order, to begin healing Azeroth after the Cataclysm. I went to the Twilight Highlands, where I met Reimar." Her gaze lingered on him for a moment. "While it was shaky at first, we learned to value each other and have fought side by side every since."

 _What exactly does it mean to be a druid?_ Saphira asked. _You speak of animal forms, but is that the limit of your abilities?_

"A very good question, and a hard one." Wenowa laughed, pushing one of her long braids back. "Understanding a druid is hard for those who did not grow up in such a culture. But to put it simply, to be a druid is to be a guardian of nature seeking to preserve balance and protect life. We harness nature's energy to heal the wounded, damage our enemies with raw energy of the stars and earth, and even change our form into that of animals." She gestured to the amber glaive next to her. "Though we are not completely reliant on our magic for our safety."

"Very much like the stories of the Riders." Eragon said.

"Yes, it seems that we shared a similar philosophy. A pity that they were brought so low." She replied softly.

 _I like her._ Saphira said approvingly to Eragon. _It is a pity we must now listen to THAT._ She hissed, eye narrowing at the worgen.

 _Let him explain himself Saphira._ Eragon warned. _If he is accompanying us then we should at least try to understand him_. Though he did not say it, he was also wary of angering him.

"Well, it looks like its story time for me." Reimar half laughed. "To begin, back when I was a normal human being like you two, I was from a pretty nice home in the human kingdom Gilneas. Dad raised hunting dogs, I joined the army at 18, had a few siblings I was close to but not anything interesting there."

"Wait." Eragon interrupted. "What do you mean normal human?"

"Exactly what I said." Reimar deadpanned. "Worgen like me aren't born, we were cursed to carry this form. Some old night elf curse from millenia ago began to spread through Gilneas as the Scourge was attacking, and a crazy mage called Arugal captured me and my company and turned us into worgen, torturing us in the process."

"But you escaped."

"Clearly. But I almost wish I hadn't."

"How can you say that?" Eragon demanded, memories of his imprisonment in Gil'ead still fresh. "What could possibly make you wish you were imprisoned?"

"Dying." Reimar stated matter of factly. Seeing the confused faces of Murtagh and Eragon he continued. "The night we escaped I led what was left of my pack mates into the woods away from Arugal's keep. Right into a Scourge abmush. Some of them escaped, but me and about 50 others were slaughtered, and then brought into undeath as death knights by the Lich King. Hence my abilities now, ranging from frost manipulation to unholy plagues to blood magic."

"Impossible!" Murtagh exclaimed. "When something dies it dies! No one comes back from that."

"I agree." Eragon said. Surely it was impossible, Brom had said as much that death was an absolute that even magic could not touch.

"Then you're both fools." Reimar barked, drawing a hiss from Saphira. "I was forced by the Scourge to slaughter and kill, my very will enslaved to the lord of the grave. Do you think I would lie about such a thing?" He paused for a moment, before a wicked grin spread across his face, the grin of a predator catching the scent of his prey. "Or, if won't believe my words, I can always show you."

"How?" Eragon felt compelled to ask.

"Easy. You enter my mind and view that memory, using whatever trick you and your dragon use."

 _Don't do it._ Saphira said, anger and worry swirling around her mind. _That thing is laying a trap for you!_

 _Saphira I will be ok. I can handle it._

"Reimar stop he doesn't need to see this." Wenowa pleaded in Taur-ahe, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe, but he has the gall to call me a liar." Reimar retorted. "I've seen the fear in their eyes, just like back home. The fear of those who do not underastand and are too cowardly to do try." He pointed at the boy. "If he wishes to know then let him."

"I don't think it's a good idea Eragon." Murtagh muttered to him. "Who knows what could be in his mind."

"Saphira said as much." Eragon replied. "But, I have to know." He said as he faced Reimar. "I'm ready."

Reimar grinned. "So you do have some balls." He closed his eyes and lowered his head ever so slightly, an invitation.

Sighing Eragon extended his mind towards the worgen's, only to instinctively recoil when he made contact. The mind was savage in nature, as if a human mind had been twisted and warped into something driven on animal instinct then subsequently brought back from the precipice. But that wasn't what had caused his reaction. Reimar's mind was, put simply, rotted. His mind felt dead, yet it pulsed with life, but it was artificial, forced. It both lacked the vibrance of life and possessed it, it was unnatural in a way that defied understanding. Eragon could feel the chains that had once bound it into servitude, their imprints seared into the walls of his mind.

"Scared?" Reimar drawled.

Eragon shook his head and re-extended himself towards Reimar. Though he could no longer deny his claims, he had to finish what he started. _Do not stray from what I show you._ Reimar's mental voice reverberated, retaining the metallic echo of his true voice. _I won't be able to guarantee your sanity._ The barriers blocking Eragon parted and he felt himself guided into a memory as a dark forest took shape around him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The rain pounded all around them, lightning creating jagged impressions of the creatures who tore through the area as fast as horses. Eragon recognized them as worgen, but seeing them here, running on all fours like wolves, made him realize the extent of the animalistic curse. A moaning voice echoed through the forest, answered by many more directly ahead of the pack. A lone worgen barked and stood, the rest stopping behind him. _That one is me, as I'm sure you can tell._ Reimar's voice echoed, for the lead worgen was him, though the blue fire of his eyes replaced with intact grey ones.

The moans rose in a chorus as the first one broke through the treeline directly ahead, and Eragon had to suppress a gag at the sight. Illuminated by a strike of lightning, the figure was a corpse of a man, flesh long since paled by rot. Its bones stuck out in many places, its jaw slack and skin hanging off its face like wet rags. Across its body were deep lacerations and stab wounds, crusted over with dried blood and puss. Its dead eyes snapped towards the pack when a worgen female growled, baring her fangs. Bending forward a shriek tore through its dead mouth as it charged the female. Ducking under its wild swipe she drove her claws into its neck, tearing at the flesh. Unaffected by the normally mortal injury it twisted its head to snap at her, teeth clanking inches from her face. Snarling in anger she twisted away and slammed the ghoul into the ground, claws ripping away its head, finally ending the mindless thing's life.

The worgen howled, relishing its victory as the others added their voices to hers. They were cut off as an even louder collection of shrieks bounced between the trees, a cacophony of the damned. "Be prepared." Reimar rasped to the others, as if he were forcing the words past his lips. A horde of undead broke through the treeline, descending on the pack like a starved animal upon a fresh meal. The worgen howled in response as they rushed forward.

Though the lupines had the initial advantage in strength and speed, the unending numbers of undead quickly took its toll. To say Eragon was horrified was a vast understatement, he was witnessing a horror that minutes ago he knew was impossible. "Hartford!" Reimar barked at a worgen near the edge of the pack, swinging a sword he had claimed from one of the ghouls. "Go! Get back to Gilneas!" The other worgen hesitated, then let out a howl to those around him and took off in the opposite direction. As a dozen followed him the rest redoubled their fight against the Scourge forces to ensure their packmates' escape.

Snarling Reimar continued to fight as the worgen succumbed to the overwhelming numbers all around him, until he was the final one standing. Even as the worgen fought with all he could, it was not enough as several ghouls got behind him and drove their broken swords into his back, forcing him to the ground. Baring his teeth and growling in pain his clawed hand shot back and threw them off. As he stood more rushed forward and carved deep wounds into his chest. Reimar gave one last defiant glare as the memories faded to an endless sea of black.

 _Is...is this?_ Eragon asked, for he had felt the last death throes of the worgen.

 _What I saw? Not quite, but it's the closest my memory can approximate._ Reimar replied. _But it isn't over yet._

Eragon was confused until suddenly the blackness exploded into muted gray and blue as Reimar shot up from a pile of corpses, howling in pain. His wounds were now healed, but he was clad in robe like plate armor, his eyes reduced to the flaming blue orbs Eragon was familiar with.

"You're awake." A skeletal figure in dark robes rasped as he stepped forward. "Go to your master." He commanded. In response Reimar growled and dashed forward with incredible speed, gripping the figure's skull in his hand. "You will ob-" Reimar cut off the skeleton as he squeezed, crushing the skull with a sickening _crack!_ Two figures, carrying wicked swords and dressed in similar garb, ran forward and extended their hands. Reimar was lifted into the air with a croaking sound, purple energy wrapping around his throat and arms. Nodding the two carried the levitated worgen through the area to a balcony, passing by horrid abominations and mounds of corpses waiting to be repurposed.

"Our third brother is here my lord." One of them rasped with a metallic echo as they approached a balcony, dropping the worgen and retreating. Reimar lifted his gaze to see the figure before him, and Eragon now understood what Reimar meant by "lord of the grave." The man was tall and clad in a heavy set of plate, decorated with insignia's of death. As he turned his helm was revealed, a twisted piece of metal with two burning orbs within it. But his sword, a massive blade decorated with a skull, screamed domination and corruption, as if it had a mind of its own.

 _I-is-is that…_

 _Arthas Menethil, the Lich King._ Reimar spat.

"KNEEL!" The Lich King grated out as he lifted his sword, and even through the memory Eragon felt the chains constrict past-Reimar's mind as he was forced to his knees. "All that I am: anger, cruelty, vengeance - I bestow upon you, my chosen knight. I have granted you immortality so that you may herald in a new, dark age for the Scourge. Gaze now upon the lands below us." The Lich King gestured to the lands below the citadel, rich with life even as the corruption of the plague hovered at the edges. "The Scarlet Crusade scurries to undo my work, while Light's Hope stands defiantly against us - a blemish upon these Plaguelands. They must all be shown the price of their defiance. You will become my force of retribution. Where you tread, doom will follow. Go now and claim your destiny, death knight."

"Yessss, my lord." Reimar grated out. Suddenly the Lich King turned to where Eragon was situated behind the action, eyes seeming to bore into his very soul.

 _I think we're done here._ Eragon heard as everything violently collapsed around him and he was dragged back to reality.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Eragon snapped his head back, eyes flying open. His breathing settled as he found himself back around the campfire in the Hadarac. Though it was hardly peaceful now.

"Eragon! Are you ok?" Murtagh asked, concern evident in his voice.

 _What did you do to him monster!_ Saphira roared at Reimar, teeth bared. _I'll tear you apart!_

 _Saphira I'm ok! Saphira!_ Eragon tried to get the dragon's attention, but her hatred swirling in her mind drowned out his voice.

"I'd like to see you try dragon!" Reimar retorted. "I did the boy no harm, I only showed him the truth of what I am!"

 _He's right Saphira._ Eragon put all of his willpower into his mental voice. _I was foolish to doubt him, but I understand now._

Saphira's mind settled somewhat, or at least enough to think coherently. _How can you say that about it?!_

 _Because he didn't want this! He was forced into this existence after being slaughtered!_

 _...Fine. I trust you. But I'll be watching it like a hawk_. She replied.

"Reimar." Eragon said. "The...that thing said you were the third brother. What did he mean?"

"I was the third of this new generation of death knights, the Knights of the Ebon Blade as we call ourselves now that we're free of him. After he broke my will I was in charge of overseeing the new members and raising them."

"Wait." Murtagh interrupted. "You can...raise people? Bring them back?!" He asked incredulously.

"Yes." The death knight saw Eragon's eyes light up for a moment. "I know what you're thinking boy, and no. When someone is raised, no matter how free, their soul is damned forever. If they...if I die again my soul will be in torment for eternity. I would sooner die a thousand times than force that on someone." He finished.

"Reimar!" Wenowa yelled to get his attention, a spark of anger in her eyes. "We need to talk. Alone." With that she grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the group.

"I'm sorry he acted that way." Myra apologized. "Death knights are ostracized by most everyone, even after they helped defeat Arthas. And Reimar," she paused, "takes such insults harder than most." A tense silence stretched for several minutes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize the effect that would have on him. I...simply could not imagine it." Eragon said.

"Aye." Murtagh joined in. "I know trauma well, and I regret making him relive his."

Nodding Myra gazed towards where the druid and death knight had disappeared to. "We should get some rest, they'll return by sunrise."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"What the hell has gotten into you!" Wenowa yelled, the two were now far from the camp. "You know that they had no idea of undeath!"

"I couldn't stand it Wenowa!" Reimar yelled back. "Ever since we met them it's been all over their faces, especially the dragon's. I...I just couldn't control it."

"But did you have to show him the memory?" Wenowa asked. Reimar didn't respond, turning away and staring into the dark.

"I...I was selfish." Reimar admitted, squatting down in the cool sand. "After so many years, I just wanted someone else to understand."

"Reimar my love, I do." Wenowa squatted behind him. "Myra and Thelra do, even Dranosh."

"I know," Reimar muttered. "But...I just couldn't control myself. I WANTED someone else to see it, consequences be damned. I was only thinking of myself."

"I understand." Wenowa said quietly, hugging Reimar from behind. "Just please, try not to antagonize them so. They do not know what those of our world know. It is a blessing and a curse."

Reimar laughed softly. "Indeed. What did I ever do to deserve you?" He asked, planting a light kiss on Wenowa's cheek.

"You eventually showed me who you really are. Now you just have to show them." Wenowa replied before repeating Reimar's action.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"They have crossed the Ramr into the Hadarac, my lady."

"The desert? To what end?"

"The only explanation I can find is the Beors."

"The Varden. They would indeed help their chances against Galbatorix's urgals. Of course, that's only if their abilities are as great as your reports claim."

"I am more than confident in my findings mistress."

"Very well. Isolate and capture one of them. Alive. I wish to study them."

"Your will be done my lady."

A/N: So yeah, another chapter here for you guys. Longer than previous ones, but that will be the trend with future chapters, as it allows me to move through certain events faster. Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, and as I final note I'm increasing the rating on this from T to M. I am doing this to give me more freedom with battle scenes (especially Reimar) and any flashbacks I might include.


	6. Chapter 6: Beors

Disclaimer: I own nothing here but my OCs, World of Warcraft belongs to Blizzard and the Inheritance Cycle belongs to Paolini. This takes place in the however many year time skip between Legion and BFA (I remember hearing somewhere that the skip was two years but idk for sure).

Many thanks to Iskandar06, slayer of the abyss, snwyclaws, , Deras94, and for favoriting/following, it means a lot. That said, enjoy this latest chapter and as usual feel free to drop a review (or PM me if that's more comfortable).

It was freezing when they rose the next day. The sand had a pink hue in the morning light, and the sky was hazy, concealing the horizon. Wenowa and Reimar had returned, the latter of the two apologizing for the previous night. Although Eragon had forgiven the death knight, relations between him and Saphira had chilled even more than before. As if that wasn't bad enough Murtagh's mood had soured from the oppressive heat and Eragon and Myra found their own rapidly deteriorating.

As they left the camp, a line of dark smudges became visible on the horizon, indistinct in the hazy air. Murtagh thought they were distant hills. Eragon was not convinced, but he could make out no details.

The elf's plight filled his thoughts. He was sure that something had to be done to help her or she would die, though he knew not what that might be. Saphira was just as concerned. They talked about it for hours, but neither of them knew enough about healing to solve the problem confronting them.

At midday they stopped for a brief rest, with Reimar scouting ahead and finding no dangers. When they resumed their journey, Eragon noticed that the haze had thinned since morning, and the distant smudges had gained definition. No longer were they indistinct purple-blue lumps, but rather broad, forest-covered mounds with clear outlines. The air above them was pale white, bleached of its usual hue—all color seemed to have been leached out of a horizontal band of sky that lay on top of the hills and extended to the horizon's edges. He stared, puzzled, but the more he tried to make sense of it, the more confused he became. He blinked and shook his head, thinking that it must be some illusion of the desert air. Yet when he opened his eyes, the annoying incongruity was still there. Indeed, the whiteness blanketed half the sky before them. Sure that something was terribly wrong, he started to point this out to Murtagh and Saphira when he suddenly understood what he was seeing.

What they had taken to be hills were actually the bases of gigantic mountains, scores of miles wide. Except for the dense forest along their lower regions, the mountains were entirely covered with snow and ice. It was this that had deceived Eragon into thinking the sky white. He craned back his neck, searching for the peaks, but they were not visible. The mountains stretched up into the sky until they faded from sight. Narrow, jagged valleys with ridges that nearly touched split the mountains like deep gorges. It was like a ragged, toothy wall linking Alagaësia with the heavens.

 _There's no end to them!_ He thought, awestruck. Stories that mentioned the Beor Mountains always noted their size, but he had discounted such reports as fanciful embellishments. Now, however, he was forced to acknowledge their authenticity.

Sensing his wonder and surprise, Saphira followed his gaze with her own. Within a few seconds she recognized the mountains for what they were. _I feel like a hatchling again. Compared to them, even I feel small!_

"Damn." Reimar whistled. "They are impressive in their size."

"Aye." Wenowa agreed. "They dwarf even the peaks of Mulgore and Thousand Needles."

 _We must be near the edge of the desert_ , said Eragon. _It's only taken two days and we can already see the far side and beyond!_

Saphira spiraled above the dunes. _Yes, but considering the size of those peaks, they could still be fifty leagues from here. It's hard to gauge distances against something so immense. Wouldn't they be a perfect hiding place for the elves or the Varden?_

 _You could hide more than the elves and Varden_ , he stated. _Entire nations could exist in secret there, hidden from the Empire. Imagine living with those behemoths looming over you!_ He guided Snowfire to Murtagh and pointed, grinning.

"What?" grunted Murtagh, scanning the land. "Look closely," urged Eragon.

Murtagh peered closely at the horizon. He shrugged. "What, I don't—" The words died in his mouth and gave way to slack-jawed wonder. Murtagh shook his head, muttering, "That's impossible!" He squinted so hard that the corners of his eyes crinkled. He shook his head again. "I knew the Beor Mountains were large, but not that monstrous size!"

"Let's hope the animals that live there aren't in proportion to the mountains," said Myra lightly.

Murtagh smiled. "It will be good to find some shade and spend a few weeks in leisure. I've had enough of this forced march."

"I'm tired too," admitted Eragon, "but I don't want to stop until the elf is cured . . . or she dies."

"Constant travel will do nothing to help her." said Myra gravely. "A bed will do her more good than hanging underneath Saphira all day."

Eragon shrugged. "Maybe . . . When we reach the mountains, I could take her to Surda— it's not that far. There must be a healer there who can help her; we certainly can't."

Murtagh shaded his eyes with his hand and stared at the mountains. "We can talk about it later. For now our goal is to reach the Beors. There, at least, the Ra'zac will have trouble finding us, and we will be safe from the Empire."

As the day wore on, the Beor Mountains seemed to get no closer, though the landscape changed dramatically. The sand slowly transformed from loose grains of reddish hue to hard-packed, dusky-cream dirt. In place of dunes were ragged patches of plants and deep furrows in the ground where flooding had occurred. A cool breeze wafted through the air, bringing welcome refreshment. The horses sensed the change of climate and hurried forward eagerly.

When evening subdued the sun, the mountains' foothills were a mere league away. Herds of gazelles bounded through lush fields of waving grass. Eragon caught Saphira eyeing them hungrily. They camped by a stream, relieved to be out of the punishing Hadarac Desert.

Fatigued and haggard, but with triumphant smiles, they sat around the fire,  
congratulating each other. Saphira crowed jubilantly, which startled the horses. Eragon stared at the flames. He was proud that they had covered roughly sixty leagues in five days. It was an impressive feat, even for a rider able to change mounts regularly.

"Strange to be outside the Empire?" Wenowa asked, snapping Eragon from those very thoughts. "I know the feeling. When I first left Mulgore, the bluffs and mountains had been all I knew. I felt so small beyond them, like an ant on a giant's palm."

"It is indeed strange." Eragon replied He had been born in the Empire, lived his entire life under Galbatorix's rule, lost his closest friends and family to the king's servants, and had nearly died several times within his domain. Now Eragon was free. No more would he and Saphira have to dodge soldiers, avoid towns, or hide who they were. It was a bittersweet realization, for the cost had been the loss of his entire world.

"Don't dwell on it, it will fade. Makes you appreciate everything a bit more, doesn't it?" The druid asked. Eragon nodded, looking at the stars in the gloaming sky. And though the thought of building a home in the safety of isolation appealed to him, he had witnessed too many wrongs committed in Galbatorix's name, from murder to slavery, to turn his back on the Empire. No longer was it just vengeance—for Brom's death as well as Garrow's—that drove him. As a Rider, it was his duty to assist those without strength to resist Galbatorix's oppression.  
With a sigh he abandoned his deliberation and observed the elf stretched out by Saphira. The fire's orange light gave her face a warm cast. Smooth shadows flickered under her cheekbones. As he stared, an idea slowly came to him.  
He could hear the thoughts of people and animals—and communicate with them in that manner if he chose to—but it was something he had done infrequently except with Saphira. He always remembered Brom's admonishment not to violate someone's mind unless absolutely necessary. Save for the one time he had tried to probe Murtagh's consciousness, he had refrained from doing so.  
Now, however, he wondered if it were possible to contact the elf in her comatose state.I might be able to learn from her memories why she remains like this. But if she recovers, would she forgive me for such an intrusion? . . . Whether she does or not, I must try. She's been in this condition for almost a week. Without speaking of his intentions to Murtagh or Saphira, he knelt by the elf and placed his palm on her brow.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"What do you think he's doing?" Myra asked, gesturing to the young Rider who had become locked in a kneeling position in front of the sick elf.

"Probably trying to connect with her mentally, like how he viewed my memory." Reimar shrugged.

 _Speaking of which._ Saphira's presence loomed large against his mind. _I will have words with you about that._

"And what of it dragon?" Reimar asked, earning a sharp glare from Myra and Wenowa.

 _What you did was unacceptable on every level._ She hissed, venom in her tongue. _Those...things you showed him were-_

"So he did show you them?" Reimar smirked. "And you still think I am a monster?" He asked. Saphira fell silent for a moment.

 _I still believe you are monstrous, untrustworthy, and entirely unnatural._ She replied.

Reimar's expression fell for a fraction of a second before returning to a cold mask. "I expected nothing less from-"

 _I am not finished._ Saphira was now the one to cut off the worgen. _You are all those things but...Eragon is right. You are not a monster._ Reimar was shocked to say the least, few dragons in his experience were willing to admit their faults. _What was done to you was...evil beyond words. I cannot imagine what I would do if I was subjected to a fraction of it. Or...if Eragon was. For that, you have my sympathy_. Saphira's voice softened as her dazzling blue eyes met Reimar's cold ones.

"Well, that was unexpected." Reimar said, scratching his neck. "So, we're good?"

 _For now. But, if any harm comes to Eragon I will not hesitate to rend you limb from limb._

Reimar laughed. "I expect nothing less from a dragon." Looking around the camp again he saw Eragon shaking as he kneeled beside the elf, face contorted in pain. "Boy? Boy?!" He yelled as he approached. Eragon took a shuddering breath and forced his eyes open. Reimar approached and Murtagh and Saphira stood on either side of him, watching with concern. "What happened? You've been there for ten minuted."  
"I have?" asked Eragon, blinking.  
 _Yes, and grimacing like a pained gargoyle_ , commented Saphira dryly.  
Eragon stood, wincing as his cramped knees stretched. "I talked with Arya!" Murtagh frowned quizzically, as if to inquire if he had gone mad. Eragon explained, "The elf— that's her name."  
"What ails her?" Wenowa asked, concern in her voice.  
Eragon swiftly told them of his entire discussion. "How far away are the Varden?" asked  
Murtagh.  
"I'm not exactly sure," confessed Eragon. "From what she showed me, I think it's even farther than from here to Gil'ead."

"Oh for the love of-" Reimar exclaimed.  
"And we're supposed to cover that in three or four days?" demanded Murtagh angrily. "It took us five long days to get here! What do you want to do, kill the horses? They're exhausted as it is."  
"But if we do nothing, she'll die! If it's too much for the horses, Saphira can fly ahead with Arya and me; Reimar can follow on his steed and at least we would get to the Varden in time. You and the others could catch up with us in a few days."  
Murtagh grunted and crossed his arms. "Of course. Murtagh the pack animal. Murtagh the horse leader. I should have remembered that's all I'm good for nowadays. Oh, and let's not forget, every soldier in the Empire is searching for me now because you couldn't defend yourself, and I had to go and save you. Yes, I suppose I'll just follow your instructions and bring up the horses in the rear like a good servant."  
Eragon was bewildered by the sudden venom in Murtagh's voice. "What's wrong with you? I'm grateful for what you did. There's no reason to be angry with me! I didn't ask you to accompany me or to rescue me from Gil'ead. You chose that. I haven't forced you to do anything."  
"Oh, not openly, no. What else could I do but help you with the Ra'zac? And then later, at Gil'ead, how could I have left with a clear conscience? The problem with you," said Murtagh, poking Eragon in the chest, "is that you're so totally helpless you force everyone to take care of you!"  
The words stung Eragon's pride; he recognized a grain of truth in them. "Don't touch me," he growled.  
Murtagh laughed, a harsh note in his voice. "Or what, you'll punch me? You couldn't hit a brick wall." He went to shove Eragon again, but Eragon grabbed his arm and struck him in the stomach. Murtagh doubled over, swearing.  
"I said, don't touch me!"

"Enough!" Myra yelled, but her words fell on deaf ears as Murtagh yelled and launched himself at Eragon. They fell in a tangle of arms and legs, pounding on each other. Eragon kicked at Murtagh's right hip, missed, and grazed the fire. Sparks and burning embers scattered through the air.  
They scrambled across the ground, trying to get leverage. Eragon managed to get his feet under Murtagh's chest and kicked mightily. Murtagh flew upside down over Eragon's head, landing flat on his back with a solid thump.  
Murtagh's breath whooshed out. He rolled stiffly to his feet, then wheeled to face Eragon, panting heavily. They charged each other once more.

Before they could reach each other thick roots exploded out of the ground, ensnaring their legs and arms. Both struggled against the restraints to no avail as Wenowa approached, arms glowing with druidic energy. "Enough! You two act as if you were children fighting over a toy!" Eragon growled and struggled once again, only for Wenowa to close her fists. The roots tightened their grip and forced both humans to the ground as Saphira pounced on them, muscled legs holding them as the roots recede back into the ground.

 _The druid speaks truth._ Saphira growled, jaws dangerously close to her Rider's head. _You of all people should know better! Fighting like starving dogs over a scrap of meat. What would Brom say?_  
Eragon felt his cheeks burn and averted his eyes. He knew what Brom would have said. Saphira held them on the ground, letting them simmer, then said to Eragon pointedly, _Now, if you don't want to spend the night under my foot, you will politely ask Murtagh what is troubling him._ She snaked her head over to Murtagh and stared down at him with an impassive blue eye. _And tell him that I won't stand for insults from either of you._  
 _Won't you let us up?_ complained Eragon.  
 _No._  
Eragon reluctantly turned his head toward Murtagh, tasting blood in the side of his mouth. Murtagh avoided his eyes and looked up at the sky. "Well, is she going to get off us?"  
"No, not unless we talk. . . . She wants me to ask you what's really the problem," said Eragon, embarrassed.  
Saphira growled an affirmative and continued to stare at Murtagh. It was impossible for him to escape her piercing glare. Finally he shrugged, muttering something under his breath. Saphira's claws tightened on his chest, and her tail whistled through the air. Murtagh shot her an angry glance, then grudgingly said louder, "I told you before: I don't want to go to the Varden."  
"Don't want to? Or can't?" Myra asked.

Murtagh tried to shove Saphira's leg off him, then gave up with a curse. "Don't want to! They'll expect things from me that I can't deliver."  
"Did you steal something from them?" Eragon asked.

"I wish it were that simple."  
Eragon rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Well, what is it, then? Did you kill someone important or bed the wrong woman?"  
"No, I was born," said Murtagh cryptically. He pushed at Saphira again. This time she released them both. They got to their feet under her watchful eye and brushed dirt from their backs.  
"You're avoiding the question," Eragon said, dabbing his split lip.  
"So what?" spat Murtagh as he stomped to the edge of the camp. After a minute he sighed. "It doesn't matter why I'm in this predicament, but I can tell you that the Varden wouldn't welcome me even if I came bearing the king's head. Oh, they might greet me nicely enough and let me into their councils, but trust me? Never. And if I were to arrive under less fortuitous circumstances, like the present ones, they'd likely clap me in irons."  
"Won't you tell me what this is about?" asked Eragon. "I've done things I'm not proud of, too, so it's not as if I'm going to pass judgment."  
Murtagh shook his head slowly, eyes glistening. "It isn't like that. I haven't done anything to deserve this treatment, though it would have been easier to atone for if I had. No . . . my only wrongdoing is existing in the first place." He stopped and took a shaky breath. "You see, my father—"  
A sharp hiss from Saphira cut him off abruptly. _Look!_  
They followed her gaze westward. Murtagh's face paled. "Demons above and below!"  
A league or so away, parallel to the mountain range, was a column of figures marching east. The line of troops, hundreds strong, stretched for nearly a mile. Dust billowed from their heels. Their weapons glinted in the dying light. A standard-bearer rode before them in a black chariot, holding aloft a crimson banner.  
"It's the Empire," said Eragon tiredly. "They've found us . . . somehow." Saphira poked her head over his shoulder and gazed at the column.  
"Yes . . . but those are Urgals, not men," said Murtagh. He pointed at the standard. "That flag bears the personal symbol of an Urgal chieftain. He's a ruthless brute, given to violent fits and insanity."

"Sounds just like Garrosh. He'll be fun to kill." Reimar grinned.

Eragon hurried to the fire and covered it with dirt. "We don't have time, we have to flee! You don't want to go to the Varden, but I have to take Arya to them before she dies. Here's a compromise: come with me until I reach the lake Kóstha-mérna, then go your own way." Murtagh hesitated. Eragon added quickly, "If you leave now, in sight of the column, Urgals will follow you. And then where will you be, facing them alone?"

"Very well," said Murtagh, tossing his saddlebags over Tornac's flanks, "but when we near the Varden, I will leave."

Eragon burned to question Murtagh further, but not with Urgals so near. He gathered his belongings and saddled Snowfire. Saphira fanned her wings, took off in a rush, and circled above. She kept guard over Murtagh and Eragon as they left camp. Wenowa shifted into deer form, Myra clambering on, while Reimar summoned his deathcharger once more and broke into a gallop ahead of the others. At least he wouldn't have to worry about killing his mount through exhaustion.

 _What direction shall I fly_? Saphira asked.

 _East, along the Beors._

Stilling her wings, Saphira rose on an updraft and teetered on the pillar of warm air, hovering in the sky over the horses. _I wonder why the Urgals are here. Maybe they were sent to attack the Varden._

"We will have to fight them eventually." Wenowa pointed out. Nodding Eragon guided Snowfire past half-visible obstacles. As the night deepened, the Urgals faded into the gloom behind them.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Why did you kill him?!" Eragon yelled at Murtagh, pointing to the slain slaver. Luckily he had scared off the rest before Reimar and Wenowa, who had concealed themselves in the treeline, had struck. But in the confusion as the slavers fled from Saphira Murtagh had taken the liberty to slay their leader.

Murtagh wiped his sword on the back of Torkenbrand's jerkin. The steel left a dark stain. "I don't see why you're so upset—"

"Upset!" exploded Eragon. "I'm well past that! Did it even occur to you that we could just leave him here and continue on our way? No! Instead you turn into an executioner and chop off his head. He was defenseless!"

Murtagh seemed perplexed by Eragon's wrath. "Well, we couldn't keep him around— he was dangerous. The others ran off . . . without a horse he wouldn't have made it far. I didn't want the Urgals to find him and learn about Arya. So I thought it would—"

"But to kill him?" interrupted Eragon. Saphira sniffed Torkenbrand's head curiously. She opened her mouth slightly, as if to snap it up, then appeared to decide better of it and prowled to Eragon's side.

"I'm only trying to stay alive," stated Murtagh. "No stranger's life is more important than my own."

"He has a point Eragon." Reimar said nonchalantly. "There are many men who deserve this fate, and you can't spare everyone just because-"

"But you can't indulge in wanton violence. Where is your empathy?" growled Eragon, pointing at both of them.

"Empathy? Empathy? What empathy can I afford my enemies? Shall I dither about whether to defend myself because it will cause someone pain? If that had been the case, I would have died years ago! You must be willing to protect yourself and what you cherish, no matter what the cost." Murtagh yelled. Reimar had to agree with the boy.

Eragon slammed Zar'roc back into its sheath, shaking his head savagely. "You can justify any atrocity with that reasoning."

"Enough!" Reimar shouted, cutting them off. "Every moment we debate morality here is another moment you risk death for all of us. Sort out your differences once we're with the Varden."

They rode at a rate that Eragon would have thought impossible a week ago; leagues melted away before them as if wings were attached to their feet. They turned south, between two outstretched arms of the Beor Mountains. The arms were shaped like pincers about to close, the tips a day's travel apart. Yet the distance seemed less because of the mountains' size. It was as if they were in a valley made for giants.

When they stopped for the day, Eragon and Murtagh ate dinner in silence, refusing to look up from their food. Afterward, Eragon said tersely, "I'll take the first watch." Murtagh nodded and lay on his blankets with his back to Eragon.

"No need boy, I'll stand watch." Reimar said, unsheathing his large sword and holding it loosely in one hand as he kneeled.

"But you have not rested since you joined us." Eragon attempted to argue.

"A benefit of being a death knight is that while we can sleep, we don't need it. You, on the other hand, still need rest. Go." With that the conversation was over and Eragon reluctantly sat against Saphira.

 _Do you want to talk_? Asked Saphira.

 _Not right now,_ murmured Eragon. _Give me some time to think; I'm . . . confused._

She withdrew from his mind with a gentle touch and a whisper. _I love you, little one._

 _And I you_ , He said. She curled into a ball next to him, lending him her warmth. He sat motionless in the dark, wrestling with his disquiet.

A/N: So yeah, another slightly boring but long chapter out of the way. I can promise that the next one will be much better and actually start to diverge from canon now. That one should be out soon (as I cut a good portion of this chapter that is now the beginning of that one because this was long enough at is). See you guys and gals in the next one!


	7. Chapter 7: Shade

Disclaimer: I own nothing here but my OCs, World of Warcraft belongs to Blizzard and the Inheritance Cycle belongs to Paolini. This takes place in the however many year time skip between Legion and BFA (I remember hearing somewhere that the skip was two years but idk for sure).

Many thanks to spiritwalker8, EragonDragneel, Nexives, acslayer98, and CanisArcani for favoriting/following, it means a lot. That said, enjoy this latest chapter and as usual feel free to drop a review (or PM me if that's more comfortable).

It had been two days since the encounter with the slavers, and the Urgals chasing them had shortened the distance between them to less than a league as the group approached the valley, they passed under the knotted branches of the Beor Mountains' forest. The trees were tall, with creviced bark that was almost black, dull needles of the same color, and knobby roots that rose from the soil like bare knees. Cones littered the ground, each the size of a horse's head. Sable squirrels chattered from the treetops, and eyes gleamed from holes in the trunks. Green beards of tangled wolfsbane hung from the gnarled branches. The forest gave Eragon an uneasy feeling; the hair on the back of his neck prickled. There was something hostile in the air, as if the trees resented their intrusion. _They are very old_ , said Saphira, touching a trunk with her nose.

 _Yes_ , said Eragon, _but not friendly_. Wenowa placed her hand on the ancient trunk, a faint smile gracing her lips as she breathed in deep. "You have nothing to fear from them." She said, probably having picked up on their apprehension. "Though of a different land, the Earthmother still protects those who protect her." The forest grew denser the farther in they traveled. The lack of space forced Saphira to take off with Arya. Without a clear trail to follow, the tough underbrush slowed them significantly. The Beartooth River wound next to them, filling the air with the sound of gurgling water. A nearby peak obscured the sun, casting them into premature dusk.

At the valley's mouth, Eragon realized that although it looked like a slim gash between the peaks, the valley was really as wide as many of the Spine's vales. It was only the enormous size of the ridged and shadowy mountains that made it appear so confined. Waterfalls dotted its sheer sides. The sky was reduced to a thin strip winding overhead, mostly hidden by gray clouds. From the dank ground rose a clinging fog that chilled the air until their breath was visible. Wild strawberries crawled among a carpet of mosses and ferns, fighting for the meager sunlight. Sprouting on piles of rotting wood were red and yellow toadstools.

All was hushed and quiet, sounds dampened by the heavy air. Saphira landed by them in a nearby glade, the rush of her wings strangely muted. She took in the view with a swing of her head. _I just passed a flock of birds that were black and green with red markings on their wings. I've never seen birds like that before._

 _Everything in these mountains seems unusual,_ replied Eragon _. Do you mind if I ride you awhile? I want to keep an eye on the Urgals._

 _Of course._

He turned to Murtagh. "The Varden are hidden at the end of this valley. If we hurry, we might get there before nightfall."

Murtagh grunted, hands on his hips. "How am I going to get out of here? I don't see any valleys joining this one, and the Urgals are going to hem us in pretty soon. I need an escape route."

"Don't worry about it," said Eragon impatiently. "This is a long valley; there's sure to be an exit further in." He released Arya from Saphira and lifted the elf onto Snowfire. "Watch Arya—I'm going to fly with Saphira. We'll meet you up ahead." He scrambled onto Saphira's back and strapped himself onto her saddle.

"Be careful," Murtagh warned, his brow furrowed in thought, then clucked to the horses and hurried back into the forest.

"I shall join them, three pairs of eyes are better than two." Wenowa said, quickly shifting into her bird form and taking off after the dragon.

"Heh, she's just jealous that they get to experience all of that." Reimar vaguely gestured to the peaks.

"Can you blame her?" Myra asked. "They are quite beautiful." She said as she climbed into the saddle behind Reimar and they took off after the human boy.

"In a way." Came the reply.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Wenowa soared the icy winds beside the dragon and her Rider, enjoying the freedom it brought her. Being trapped in her deer form for so long had tired her as much as the others, but this allowed her a moment of relaxation. As she saw the dragon shoot up to higher altitudes Wenowa was content to watch the forest from above, admiring the untouched beauty and allowing her mind at ease.

The druid was snapped from her musing as Saphira dropped from the clouds, almost appearing to lose consciousness before snapping her wings out and leveling out beside her. _Saphira!_ Wenowa yelled, still getting used to her new mental voice. _What happened?_

 _He passed out, I don't know what happened._ Her voice was twinged with panic.

 _Wha...what happened?_ Eragon asked as he slowly came to, head swaying.

 _You blacked out._ Wenowa explained. _You and Saphira flew much too high, I've known many druids who have made the same mistake._

 _We should remember this experience. The knowledge may be useful if we ever have to fight another Rider._ Saphira said.

 _I hope that never happens,_ said Eragon. _Let's stay down below for now. I've had enough adventure for one day._

The three floated on the gentle air currents, drifting from one mountain to the next, until Eragon saw that the Urgal column had reached the valley's mouth. _What drives them to such speed, and how can they bear to sustain it?_

 _Now that we are closer to them,_ Saphira said, _I can see that these Urgals are bigger than the ones we've met before. They would stand chest and shoulders over a tall man. I don't know what land they march from, but it must be a fierce place to produce such brutes._

Eragon glared at the ground below—he could not see the detail that she did. _If they keep to this pace, they'll catch Murtagh and the others before we find the Varden._

 _Have hope. The forest may hamper their progress. . . . Would it be possible to stop them with magic?_

Eragon shook his head. _Stop them . . . no. There are too many._ He thought of the thin layer of mist on the valley floor and grinned _. But I might be able to delay them a bit_. He closed his eyes, selected the words he needed, stared at the mist, and then commanded, "Gath un reisa du rakr!"

There was a disturbance below. From above, it looked as if the ground was flowing together like a great sluggish river. A leaden band of mist gathered in front of the Urgals and thickened into an intimidating wall, dark as a thunderhead. The Urgals hesitated before it, then continued forward like an unstoppable battering ram. The barrier swirled around them, concealing the lead ranks from view.

The drain on Eragon's strength was sudden and massive, making his heart flutter like a dying bird. He gasped, eyes rolling. He struggled to sever the magic's hold on him—to plug the breach through which his life streamed. With a savage growl he jerked away from the magic and broke contact. Tendrils of magic snapped through his mind like decapitated snakes, then reluctantly retreated from his consciousness, clutching at the dregs of his strength. The wall of mist dissipated, and the fog sluggishly collapsed across the ground like a tower of mud sliding apart. The Urgals had not been hindered at all.

Eragon lay limply on Saphira, panting. Only now did he remember Brom saying, "Magic is affected by distance, just like an arrow or a spear. If you try to lift or move something a mile away, it'll take more energy than if you were closer." _I won't forget that again_ , he thought grimly.

 _You shouldn't have forgotten in the first place,_ Saphira inserted pointedly _. First the dirt at Gil'ead and now this. Weren't you paying attention to anything Brom told you? You'll kill yourself if you keep this up._

 _I paid attention_ , he insisted, rubbing his chin. _It's just been a while, and I haven't had an opportunity to think back on it. I've never used magic at a distance, so how could I know it would be so difficult?_

 _I have an idea._ Wenowa chimed in. _I shall go down and slow them._

 _How so?_

 _I can cause new growths in the forest, seal parts of it to their advance. Tell Reimar, he will delay them as well._

Saphira nodded and dipped toward the ground, searching for Murtagh and the others. Eragon would have helped her, but he barely had the energy to sit up.

Saphira settled in a small field with a jolt, and Eragon was puzzled to see the horses stopped and Murtagh kneeling, examining the ground. When Eragon did not dismount, Murtagh hurried over and inquired, "What's wrong?" He sounded angry, worried, and tired at the same time.

". . . I made a mistake," said Eragon truthfully. "The Urgals have entered the valley. I tried to confuse them, but I forgot one of the rules of magic, and it cost me a great deal."

Scowling, Murtagh jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "I just found some wolf tracks,

but the footprints are as wide as both of my hands and an inch deep. There are animals around here that could be dangerous even to you, Saphira." He turned to her. "I know you can't enter the forest, but could you circle above me and the horses? That should keep these beasts away. Otherwise there may only be enough left of me to roast in a thimble."

"Humor, Murtagh?" asked Eragon, a quick smile coming to his face. His muscles trembled, making it hard for him to concentrate.

"Only on the gallows." Murtagh rubbed his eyes. "I can't believe that the same Urgals have been following us the whole time. They would have to be birds to catch up with us."

"Saphira said they're larger than any we've seen," remarked Eragon.

Murtagh cursed, clenching the pommel of his sword. "That explains it! Saphira, if you're right, then those are Kull, elite of the Urgals. I should have guessed that the chieftain had been put in charge of them. They don't ride because horses can't carry their weight—not one of them is under eight feet tall—and they can run for days without sleep and still be ready for battle. It can take five men to kill one. Kull never leave their caves except for war, so they must expect a great slaughter if they are out in such force."

"Wait. Where is Wenowa? She was with you." Reimar growled. Eragon quickly explained the druid's plan to him, and he couldn't help but notice the evil grin that spread along his face. "Alright then, I can finally see what these Kull can do. I'll plant some plague traps to slow them, those that succumb will turn on their own. But you three must flee, Wenowa and I will do all that we can to slow them." With that the worgen, rather than mount his steed, simply dropped to all fours and took off at a speed rivaling the horses, quickly disappearing into the dense wood.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Shifting into her natural form Wenowa approached the nearest tree, placing a large hand against the rough bark. Breathing out she closed her eyes, tapping into the life force of the plants around her. _Earthmother, here my call. Though I am not of this world, I am your child and humble protector._ She hummed as green energy coalesced around her arms before travelling into the tree, the glow jumping to its neighbors. Focusing her mind she pushed the energy out. The grating sound of bark expanding and growing filled her ears as the trees expanded, new branches quickly sprouting and linking with those of the trees next to them.

After several minutes Wenowa stepped back and examined her work. The trees had fused together to form a solid barrier, and was still expanding outward from her. That ought to hold the Kull for a time. The druid was about to take flight to the next when she sensed something, some sixth sense screaming at her. Spinning 180 degrees she saw a dagger flew mere inches from her face, the red metal tapered to an unusually long point. It slammed into the trunk next to her with a resounding _thud_ as its owner emerged from the treeline.

"Well well well, you're not the one I wanted. But you will be sufficient." The figure was a human female, but had pale and paperlike skin and bright red irises and hair. Her voice was high, but unnatural, not unlike those on Azeroth imbued with dark magics. In her hand was a long and barbed sword of twisted red metal. Wenowa knew that this creature was a Shade, similar to the one Eragon said he had fought in Gil'ead.

"What do you want?" Wenowa demanded, readying her Klaxxi glaive. The razor sharp amber glinted in the muted light that filtered through the treetops.

"My mistress desires you. One does not rebuke her." The figure said ominously.

"It looks like she'll be disappointed then." Wenowa replied as she lunged forward, thrusting the weapon towards the Shade's chest. The being sidestepped with speed Wenowa had never seen in a human and parried the blow, sending a swipe towards the druid's neck. Twisting the staff portion she blocked the strike, bringing her and the Shade within inches of each other.

"A pity. You would make a good servant." The Shade rasped as they disengaged. The two traded several blows, Wenowa using the reach of her glaive to keep the creature away. Each combatant earned several wounds, with the Shade's healing rapidly while Wenowa was left with gashes and scrapes along her arms and shoulders. After dodging two particularly powerful strikes Wenowa slashed towards the Shade's head, landing a large gash across the Shade's pale cheek as she twisted just enough to prevent the blow from being fatal. Growling she lunged forward, blows increasing in speed and power, Wenowa barely able to keep up. The druid extended her hand as she rolled away from a strike that would have severed her arm, roots exploding from the ground to begin snaking up the Shade's legs.

"Your simple tricks will not save you." She smirked as she cut the roots and exploded forward. Wenowa was barely able to sidestep the fatal lunge, though the sword left a long gash along her shoulder as it parted the treated leather as if it were cloth. Groaning she gripped the wound with her free hand, her other extending towards the Shade as stars began to fall around her. Her enemy's eyes went wide as she attempted to outmaneuver them, but one found its mark and collided with her right side, kicking up dirt and foliage that hid her from sight.

Wenowa narrowed her eyes as she stared through the fog, before a blur of motion caught her eye. She had barely a moment to bring her glaive into a defensive position before the Shade's sword collided with her, causing both to skid back several feet. The Shade was missing her right arm and was covered in horrific burns, but even now they were beginning to heal as the pale skin rippled. "You will pay." The creature spat, revealing razor sharp teeth. Grunting Wenowa leapt back and threw her weapon like a spear, aiming for the Shade's heart. The Shade batted away the weapon, but it gave the druid the time she needed. Shifting into a massive horned bear she roared and charged, body checking the Shade and sending her flying into the stone face of the mountain. The impact shattered her bones and left her immobilized, even as her body began to heal.

"It's over creature." Wenowa said as she shifted back and approached the woman, picking up her glaive.

"This is far from over." The Shade forced out. "I will return, stronger than ever. You cannot kill me, and my mistress will ha-" Wenowa swung the razor sharp amber in a wide arc. The headless body withered before exploding into a cloud of dust and shadows. Hoping that the creature was well and truly dead she wiped the foul blood from her weapon before changing into bird form and flying as fast as her wings could carry her to Reimar.

"Reimar! We need to go!" She said as she landed besides him, stepping around the bodies of several dead Kull littered around him. The death knight stood up, admiring one of the plague traps before him before turning to the tauren.

"But I'm just getting started dear. I-" Reimar's sentence died in his mouth when he saw the wounds on the druid, particularly the long gash along her arm. "Who did this?" His voice became deathly low.

"I'm fine." Wenowa said, running a hand over each wound as they began to heal under green light. "I fought with one of those Shades Eragon described."

"Where?!"

"Five minutes flight from here. But I took care of her, she won't be bothering us." Wenowa said as the last scrapes closed. "But we need to catch up with the rest, this horde is barely being slowed."

Reimar sighed. "You're right." He summoned his steed as Wenowa climbed on in order to ensure they caught up as quickly as possible. "But mark my words. If that Shade thing comes back I will rip it limb from limb."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Eragon jumped off Saphira, stumbling a bit as he matched Murtagh and Myra's pace. Behind him Saphira went to the river so she could follow them without being hindered by the trees. Before Eragon could relay his news, Murtagh said, "I saw you dropping rocks with Saphira—ambitious. Have the Kull stopped or turned back?"

"They're still behind us, but we're almost to the head of the valley. How's Arya?"

"She hasn't died," Murtagh said harshly. His breath came in short bursts. His next words were deceptively calm, like those of a man concealing a terrible passion. "Is there a valley or gorge ahead that I can leave through?"

Apprehensive, Eragon tried to remember if he had seen any breaks in the mountains around them; he had not thought about Murtagh's dilemma for a while. "It's dark," he began evasively, dodging a low branch, "so I might have missed something, but . . . no."

Murtagh swore explosively and came to an abrupt stop, dragging on the horses' reins until they halted as well. "Are you saying that the only place I can go is to the Varden?"

"Yes, but keep running. The Urgals are almost upon us!"

"No!" said Murtagh angrily. He stabbed a finger at Eragon. "I warned you that I wouldn't go to the Varden, but you went ahead and trapped me between a hammer and an anvil! You're the one with the elf's memories. Why didn't you tell me this was a dead end?"

Eragon bristled at the barrage and retorted, "All I knew was where we had to go, not what lay in between. Don't blame me for choosing to come." Murtagh's breath hissed between his teeth as he furiously spun away. All Eragon could see of him was a motionless, bowed figure. His own shoulders were tense, and a vein throbbed on the side of his neck. He put his hands on his hips, impatience rising.

"This is not the time you two!" Myra yelled. She was exasperated by the two's constant fighting of late. "Do you wish for the Kull to catch us?"

Eragon ignored the priestess. "What's your quarrel with the Varden? It can't be so terrible that you must keep it hidden even now. Would you rather fight the Kull than reveal it? How many times will we go through this before you trust me?" There was a long silence.

 _The Urgals!_ Reminded Saphira urgently.

I _know_ , Said Eragon, pushing back his temper. _But we have to resolve this. Quickly_.

"Murtagh," said Eragon earnestly, "unless you wish to die, we must go to the Varden. Don't let me walk into their arms without knowing how they will react to you. It's going to be dangerous enough without unnecessary surprises."

Finally Murtagh turned to Eragon. His breathing was hard and fast, like that of a cornered wolf. He paused, then said with a tortured voice, "You have a right to know. I . . . I am the son of Morzan, first and last of the Forsworn."

A/N: Ya, another chapter down. Now, other than the people I thanked in the beginning I'd like to extend a very special thank you to Darkdragondude1234, who has become my idea springboard for this story, you're the best man. And thank you to all my amazing readers for getting this story to over 1100 views, making this my most popular story by views. Anyways, hope you enjoyed, feel free to shoot me a review of PM, and see you all in the next one.


	8. Chapter 8: Mindbreakers 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing here but my OCs, World of Warcraft belongs to Blizzard and the Inheritance Cycle belongs to Paolini. This takes place in the however many year time skip between Legion and BFA (I remember hearing somewhere that the skip was two years but idk for sure).

Many thanks to snyclaws, Rezonic, R3active Paladin, dswiller80, Aksis, Noz123, Time Hollow, A Bibliophage, TitanVoid, tjukurpa, and Nexives for favoriting/following/reviewing, it means a lot. As always, Darkdragondude1234 has been amazing as my idea springboard, it means a lot man. I would also shoutout the guys in the r/fanfiction discord server, I highly suggest joining them and seeing their amazing work firsthand. That said, enjoy this latest chapter and as usual feel free to drop a review (or PM me if that's more comfortable).

Eragon was speechless. Disbelief roared through his mind as he tried to reject Murtagh's Forsworn never had any children, least of all Morzan. Morzan! The man who betrayed the Riders to Galbatorix and remained the king's favorite servant for the rest of his life. Could it be true?  
Saphira's own shock reached him a second later. She crashed through trees and brush as she barreled from the river to his side, fangs bared, tail raised threateningly. _Be ready for anything_ , she warned. _He may be able to use magic._

"You are his heir?" asked Eragon, surreptitiously reaching for Zar'roc. _What could he want with me? Is he really working for the king?_

"I didn't choose this!" cried Murtagh, anguish twisting his face. He ripped at his clothes with a desperate air, tearing off his tunic and shirt to bare his torso. "Look!" he pleaded, and turned his back to Eragon.

Unsure, Eragon leaned forward, straining his eyes in the darkness. There, against Murtagh's tanned and muscled skin, was a knotted white scar that stretched from his right shoulder to his left hip—a testament to some terrible agony. "I was only three when I got it. During one of his many drunken rages, Morzan threw his sword at me as I ran by. My back was laid open by the very sword you now carry—the only thing I expected to receive as inheritance, until Brom stole it from my father's corpse. I was lucky, I suppose—there was a healer nearby who kept me from dying. You must understand, I don't love the Empire or the king. I have no allegiance to them, nor do I mean you harm!" His pleas became almost frantic.

Myra was shocked, hands flying to cover her mouth in horror. Eragon uneasily lifted his hand from Zar'roc's pommel. "Then your father," he said in a faltering voice, "was killed by . . ."  
"Yes, Brom," said Murtagh. He pulled his tunic back on with a detached air.  
A horn rang out behind them, prompting Eragon to cry, "Come, run with me." Murtagh shook the horses' reins and forced them into a tired trot, eyes fixed straight ahead, while Arya bounced limply in Snowfire's saddle. Myra quickly followed behind Murtagh, keeping an eye on the elf tethered to Snowfire behind her. Saphira stayed by Eragon's side, easily keeping pace with her long legs. _You could walk unhindered in the riverbed, he said as she was forced to smash through a dense web of branches_.  
 _I'll not leave you with him._  
Eragon was glad for her protection. "Your tale is… hard to believe. How do I know you aren't lying?" He said between tired strides.  
"Why would I lie?"

"You could be—"

"I can't prove anything to you now." Murtagh interrupted. "Keep your doubts until we reach the Varden. They'll recognize me quickly enough."

"I must know," pressed Eragon. "Do you serve the Empire?"

"No." Murtagh replied simply. Eragon opened his mouth to continue, but an exasperated Myra beat him to it.

"And even if he did, what would he accomplish by traveling with you? Even in the short time I've been here he has only helped, he could have killed you in your sleep at any point."

"You could be leading the Urgals to the Varden." Eragon said

"Then," said Murtagh shortly as he jumped over a log, "why am I still with you? I know where the Varden are now. What reason could I have for delivering myself to them? If I were going to attack them, I'd turn around and join the Urgals."

"Maybe you're an assassin," stated Eragon flatly.

"Now that's enough Eragon!" Myra yelled. "Let him be. I don't care whose son he is, he has done nothing to make you question his fortitude." The priestess' tone hardened for the first time since Eragon had met her, and it was clear that continuing would only further anger her.

 _Saphira_? Eragon asked simply.

Her tail swished over his head. _If he wanted to harm you, he could have done it long ago._

A branch whipped Eragon's neck, causing a line of blood to appear on his skin. The waterfall was growing louder. _I want you to watch Murtagh closely when we get to the Varden. He may do something foolish, and I don't want him killed by accident._

 _I'll do my best_ , she said as she shouldered her way between two trees, scraping off slabs of bark. The horn sounded behind them again. Eragon glanced over his shoulder, expecting Urgals to rush out of the darkness. The waterfall throbbed dully ahead of them, drowning out the sounds of the night.

The forest ended, and Murtagh pulled the horses to a stop. They were on a pebble beach directly to the left of the mouth of the Beartooth River. The deep lake Kóstha-mérna filled the valley, blocking their way. The water gleamed with flickering starlight. The mountain walls restricted passage around Kóstha-mérna to a thin strip of shore on either side of the lake, both no more than a few steps wide. At the lake's far end, a broad sheet of water tumbled down a black cliff into boiling mounds of froth. If it hadn't been for the Urgals behind them Eragon would have marveled at the lake's natural beauty.

"Do we go to the falls?" asked Murtagh tightly.

"Yes." Eragon took the lead and picked his way along the lake's left side. The pebbles underfoot were damp and slime covered. There was barely enough room for Saphira between the sheer valley wall and the lake; she had to walk with two feet in the water.

They were halfway to the waterfall when Myra yelled "Urgals!"

Eragon whirled around, rocks spraying from under his heel. By the shore of Kóstha- mérna, where they had been only minutes before, hulking figures streamed out of the forest. The Urgals massed before the lake. One of them gestured at Saphira; guttural words drifted over the water. Immediately the horde split and started around both sides of the lake, leaving Eragon, Myra, and Murtagh without an escape route. The narrow shore forced the bulky Kull to march single file.

"Run!" barked Murtagh, drawing his sword and slapping the horses on their flanks. Saphira took off without warning and wheeled back toward the Urgals.

"No!" cried Eragon, shouting with his mind and voice, but she continued, heedless to his pleas. With an agonizing effort, he tore his gaze from her and plunged forward, wrenching Zar'roc from its sheath.

Saphira dived at the Urgals, bellowing fiercely. They tried to scatter but were trapped against the mountainside. She caught a Kull between her talons and carried the screaming creature aloft, tearing at him with her fangs. The silent body crashed into the lake a moment later, an arm and a leg missing.

The Kull continued around Kóstha-mérna undeterred. With smoke streaming from her nostrils, Saphira dived at them again. She twisted and rolled as a cloud of black arrows  
shot toward her. Most of the projectiles glanced off her scaled sides, leaving no more than bruises, but she roared as several tore through her wings.

Eragon's arms twinged with sympathetic pain, and he had to restrain himself from rushing to her defense. Fear flooded his veins as he saw the line of Urgals closing in on them. He tried to run faster, but his muscles were too tired, the rocks too slippery.

Then, with a loud splash, Saphira plunged into Kóstha-mérna. She submerged completely, sending ripples across the lake. The Urgals nervously eyed the dark water lapping their feet.

One growled something indecipherable and jabbed his spear at the lake.

The water exploded as Saphira's head shot out of the depths. Her jaws closed on the spear, snapping it like a twig as she tore it out of the Kull's hands with a vicious twist. Before she could seize the Urgal himself, his companions thrust at her with their spears, bloodying her nose. Saphira jerked back and hissed angrily, beating the water with her tail. Keeping his spear pointed at her, the lead Kull tried to edge past, but halted when she snapped at his legs. The string of Urgals was forced to stop as she held him at bay. Meanwhile, the Kull on the other side of the lake still hurried toward the falls.

 _I've trapped them_ , she told Eragon, her voice straining, _but hurry—I cannot hold them long._ Archers on the shore were already taking aim at her. Eragon concentrated on going faster, but a rock gave under his boot and he pitched forward. Myra grabbed him to keep him on his feet, and clasping each other's forearms, they urged the horses forward with shouts.

They were almost to the waterfall. The noise was overwhelming, like an avalanche. A white wall of water gushed down the cliff, pounding the rocks below with a fury that sent mist spraying through the air to run down their faces. Four yards from the thunderous curtain, the beach widened, giving them room to maneuver.

Saphira roared as an Urgal spear grazed her haunch, then retreated underwater. With her withdrawal the Kull rushed forward with long strides. They were only a few hundred feet away.

"What do we do now?" Murtagh demanded coldly.

"I don't know. Let me think!" cried Eragon, searching Arya's memories for her final instructions. He scanned the ground until he found a rock the size of an apple, grabbed it, then pounded on the cliff next to the falls, shouting, "Aí varden abr du Shur'tugals gata vanta!"

Nothing happened.

He tried again, shouting louder than before, but only succeeded in bruising his hand. He turned in despair to Murtagh. "We're trap—" His words were cut off as Saphira leapt out of the lake, dousing them with icy water. She landed on the beach and crouched, ready to fight.

The horses backpedaled wildly, trying to bolt. Eragon reached out with his mind to steady you! cried Saphira. He turned and glimpsed the lead Urgal running at him, heavy spear raised. Up close a Kull was as tall as a small giant, with legs and arms as thick as tree trunks.  
Myra threw her arm out, a bolt of Light arcing forth and slamming into the Kull. The monstrous being staggered and was momentarily dazed, allowing Murtagh to draw back his arm and throw his sword with incredible speed. The long weapon revolved once, then struck the Kull point first in the chest with a dull crunch. The huge Urgal toppled to the ground with a strangled gurgle.

Before another Kull could attack, Murtagh dashed forward and yanked his sword out of the body. Eragon raised his palm, shouting, "Jierda theirra kalfis!" Sharp cracks resounded off the cliff. Twenty of the charging Urgals fell into Kóstha-mérna, howling and clutching their legs where shards of bone protruded. Without breaking stride, the rest of the Urgals advanced over their fallen companions. Eragon struggled against his weariness, putting a hand on Saphira for support.

A flight of arrows, impossible to see in the darkness, brushed past them and clattered against the cliff. Eragon and Murtagh ducked, covering their heads. With a small growl, Saphira jumped over them so that her armored sides shielded them and the horses. A chorus of clinks sounded as a second volley of arrows bounced off her scales.

"What now?" shouted Murtagh. There was still no opening in the cliff. "We can't stay here!"

Eragon heard Saphira snarl as an arrow caught the edge of her wing, tearing the thin membrane. He looked around wildly, trying to understand why Arya's instructions had not worked. "I don't know! This is where we're supposed to be!"

"Why don't you ask the elf to make sure?" demanded Murtagh. He dropped his sword, snatched his bow from Tornac's saddlebags, and with a swift motion loosed an arrow from between the spikes on Saphira's back. A moment later an Urgal toppled into the water.

"Now? She's barely alive! How's she going to find the energy to say anything?"

"I don't know, " shouted Myra as she created a momentary barrier to block some stray arrows, "but you'd better think of something, we can't hold out forever here!"

 _Eragon_ , growled Saphira urgently.

 _What_!

 _We're on the wrong side of the lake! I've seen Arya's memories through you, and I just realized that this isn't the right place_. She tucked her head against her breast as another flight of arrows sped toward them. Her tail flicked in pain as they struck her. _I can't keep this up! They're tearing me to pieces!_

Eragon slammed Zar'roc back into its sheath and exclaimed, "The Varden are on the other side of the lake. We have to go through the waterfall!" He noted with dread that the Urgals across Kóstha-mérna were almost to the falls.

"We'll never get the horses through. By the time we do we'll be hacked into pieces!" Murtagh yelled. Any further conversation was halted when a bellowing noise cut through the sounds of the lake. It almost sounded like...laughter? Looking back Eragon saw the line of Urgals on the opposite side steadily thinning. As a group we're knocked into the lake a horned bear could be seen, flanked by a wolf figure in heavy plate. Reimar and Wenowa.

"Go! We'll get to you!" Reimar yelled as he parried a massive blow from a Kull and bisected the brute, laughing as blood streamed out. "This I can get used to, just like the old days!" He yelled as he and Wenowa continued carving a path through the veritable wall of Kull. Nodding Eragon reached out with his mind to force himself into the frightened thoughts of the horses. Using the ancient language, he told them that unless they swam through the waterfall, they would be killed and eaten by the Urgals. Though they did not understand everything he said, the meaning of his words was unmistakable.

Snowfire and Tornac tossed their heads, then dashed into the thundering downpour, whinnying as it struck their backs. They floundered, struggling to stay above water. Murtagh sheathed his sword and jumped after them; his head disappeared under a froth of bubbles before he bobbed up, sputtering. Myra jumped right after, offering a small prayer before diving into the wall of water.

The Urgals were right behind Eragon; he could hear their feet crunching on the gravel. With a fierce war cry he leapt after Murtagh, closing his eyes a second before the cold water pummeled him.

The tremendous weight of the waterfall slammed down on his shoulders with backbreaking force. The water's mindless roar filled his ears. He was driven to the bottom, where his knees gouged the rocky lakebed. He kicked off with all his strength  
and shot part way out of the water. Before he could take a gulp of air, the cascade rammed him back underwater.

All he could see was a white blur as foam billowed around him. He frantically tried to surface and relieve his burning lungs, but he only rose a few feet before the deluge halted his ascent. He panicked, thrashing his arms and legs, fighting the water. Weighed down by Zar'roc and his drenched clothes, he sank back to the lakebed, unable to speak the ancient words that could save him.

Suddenly a strong hand grasped the back of his tunic and dragged him through the water. His rescuer sliced through the lake with quick, short strokes; Eragon hoped it was Murtagh or Myra, and not an Urgal. They surfaced and stumbled onto the pebble beach. Eragon was trembling violently; his entire body shivered in bursts.

Sounds of combat erupted to his right, and he whirled toward them, expecting an Urgal attack. The monsters on the opposite shore—where he had stood only moments before— fell beneath a withering hail of arrows from crevasses that pockmarked the cliff. Scores of Urgals already floated belly up in the water, riddled with shafts. The ones on Eragon's shore were similarly engaged. Neither group could retreat from their exposed positions, for rows of warriors had somehow appeared behind them, where the lake met the mountainsides. All that prevented the nearest Kull from rushing Eragon was the steady rain of arrows—the unseen archers seemed determined to keep the Urgals at bay. Further still he saw a strange creature swimming through the water, and Reimar running towards the falls and passing through, water freezing beneath his feets.

A gruff voice next to Eragon said, "Akh Guntéraz dorzâda! What were they thinking? You would have drowned!" Eragon jerked with surprise. It was not Murtagh standing by him, but a diminutive man no taller than his elbow. A dwarf, busy wringing water out of his long braided beard. His chest was stocky, and he wore a chain-mail jacket cut off at the shoulders to reveal muscular arms. A war ax hung from a wide leather belt strapped around his waist. An iron-bound oxhide cap, bearing the symbol of a hammer surrounded by twelve stars, sat firmly on his head. Even with the cap, he barely topped four feet. He looked longingly at the fighting and said, "Barzul, but I wish I could join them!"

"So do I dwarf. So do I." Reimar laughed as he took off his helmet and kept

 _A dwarf!_ Eragon drew Zar'roc and looked for Saphira and Murtagh. Two twelve-foot- thick stone doors had opened in the cliff, revealing a broad tunnel nearly thirty feet tall that burrowed its way into the mysterious depths of the mountain. A line of flameless lamps filled the passageway with a pale sapphire light that spilled out onto the lake. Out of the lake Wenowa jumped out as a strange, slightly lopsided creature before shifting to her natural form, shaking water droplets off of her. But she stiffens when she turns toward the group in front of them.

Saphira and Murtagh stood before the tunnel, surrounded by a grim mixture of men and dwarves. At Murtagh's elbow was a bald, beardless man dressed in purple and gold robes. He was taller than all the other humans. And he was holding a dagger to Murtagh's throat.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Myra gasped and instinctively started forward. "Stand back freaks." The bald man pressed the dagger against Murtagh's throat, even as Reimar growled. He turned to Eragon now. "If you use magic, I'll kill your lovely friend here, who was so kind as to mention you're a Rider. Don't think I won't know if you're drawing upon it. You can't hide anything from me." Eragon tried to speak, but the man snarled. "None of that! If you say or do anything I don't tell you to, he will die. Now, everyone inside." He backed into the tunnel, pulling Murtagh with him and keeping his eyes on Eragon and the other three. _Saphira, what should I do?_ Eragon asked quickly as the men and dwarves followed Murtagh's captor, leading the horses along with them.

 _Go with them_ , she counseled, _and hope that we live_. She entered the tunnel herself, eliciting nervous glances from those around her. Reluctantly, Eragon followed her, aware that the warriors' eyes were upon him. His rescuer, the dwarf, walked alongside him with a hand on the haft of his war ax.

 _These idiots! Don't they realize that we are with them?_ Reimar growled mentally to Wenowa and Myra. Every soldier, as well as the dwarf, had their eyes on them, looks varying between outright horror and wary readiness.

 _They have never seen being like us, I cannot blame them_. Wenowa replied.

 _You would think slaughtering those Urgals and being accompanied by a friendly dragon would be enough._ Reimar grunted.  
This way." Snapped the bald man. He stepped back, keeping the dagger pressed under  
Murtagh's chin, then wheeled to the right, disappearing through an arched doorway. The warriors cautiously followed him, their attention centered on the other members if the gorup. The horses were led into a different tunnel. The corridor curved sharply to the left, then to the right. A door opened and they entered a bare room large enough for Saphira to move around with ease. There was a hollow boom as the door closed, followed by a loud scrape as a bolt was secured on the outside.  
Myra slowly examined her surroundings, staff tight in her hand. The walls, floor, and ceiling were made of polished white marble that reflected a ghost image of everyone, like a mirror of veined milk. One of the unusual lanterns hung in each corner.

"There's an injured—" Eragon began, but a sharp gesture from the bald man cut him off.

"Do not speak! It must wait until you have been tested." He shoved Murtagh over to one of the warriors, who pressed a sword against Murtagh's neck. The bald man clasped his  
hands together softly. "Remove your weapons and slide them to me." A dwarf unbuckled Murtagh's sword and dropped it on the floor with a clank.  
Loath to be parted with Zar'roc, Eragon unfastened the sheath and set it and the blade on the floor. He placed his bow and quiver next to them, then pushed the pile toward the warriors. Myra and Wenowa slid their respective weapons forward as well. Reimar growled before reluctantly unslinging his massive curved blade and dropping it on the pile. "I better not find so much as a simple fingerprint on that blade." Reimar warned the bald man.

"You are in no position to make demands, beast." He drawled. Reimar growled, but remembering where he was he took a step back, lining up with the rest of the group. "Now," the bald man said to Eragon, "step away from your dragon and slowly approach me."

Puzzled, Eragon moved forward. When they were a yard apart, the man said, "Stop there! Now remove the defenses from around your mind and prepare to let me inspect your thoughts and memories. If you try to hide anything from me, I will take what I want by force . . . which would drive you mad. If you don't submit, your companion will be killed."

"Why?" asked Eragon, aghast.

"To be sure you aren't in Galbatorix's service and to understand why hundreds of Urgals, and creatures the likes of which we have never seen, are banging on our front door." He growled. His close-set eyes shifted from point to point with cunning speed. "No one may enter Farthen Dûr without being tested."

"There isn't time. We need a healer!" Myra protested.

"Silence!" roared the man, pressing down his robe with thin fingers. "Until you are examined, your words are meaningless!"

"But she's dying!" retorted Eragon angrily, pointing at Arya. They were in a precarious position, but he would let nothing else happen until Arya was cared for.

"It will have to wait! No one will leave this room until we have discovered the truth of this matter. Unless you wish—"

The dwarf who had saved Eragon from the lake jumped forward. "Are you blind, Egraz Carn? Can't you see that's an elf on the dragon? We cannot keep her here if she's in danger. Ajihad and the king will have our heads if she's allowed to die!" Reimar smirked, he was glad that at least one thing was the same as on Azeroth: dwarves had little patience for bullshit.

The man's eyes tightened with anger. After a moment he relaxed and said smoothly, "Of course, Orik, we wouldn't want that to happen." He snapped his fingers and pointed at Arya. "Remove her from the dragon." Two human warriors sheathed their swords and hesitantly approached Saphira, who watched them steadily. "Quickly, quickly!"

The men unstrapped Arya from the saddle and lowered the elf to the floor. One of the men inspected her face, then said sharply, "It's the dragon-egg courier, Arya!"

"What?" exclaimed the bald man. The dwarf Orik's eyes widened with astonishment. The bald man fixed his steely gaze on Eragon and said flatly, "You all have much explaining to do."

Eragon returned the intense stare with all the determination he could muster. "She was poisoned with the Skilna Bragh while in prison. Only Túnivor's Nectar can save her now."

The bald man's face became inscrutable. He stood motionless, except for his lips, which twitched occasionally. "Very well. Take her to the healers, and tell them what she needs. Guard her until the ceremony is completed. I will have new orders for you by then." The warriors nodded curtly and carried Arya out of the room. Eragon watched them go, wishing that he could accompany her. His attention snapped back to the bald man as he said, "Enough of this, we have wasted too much time already. Prepare to be examined."

Eragon did not want this hairless threatening man inside his mind, laying bare his every thought and feeling, but he knew that resistance would be useless. The air was strained. Murtagh's gaze burned into his forehead. Finally he bowed his head. "I am ready."

"Good, then—"

He was interrupted as Orik said abruptly, "You'd better not harm him, Egraz Carn, else the king will have words for you."

The bald man looked at him irritably, then faced Eragon with a small smile. "Only if he resists." He bowed his head and chanted several inaudible words.

 _What are we going to do?_ Myra asked as Eragon's face tightened, clearly from the probe invading his mind. _There are many things he cannot know!_

 _You two may decide as you wish._ Reimar replied. _But he is not getting inside my mind._

 _Reimar!_ Wenowa mentally yelled. _I will hate it as much as you, but this is the Varden. We can trust them._

 _Not that filth._ The death knight spat. _He reminds me far too much of the Twilight Hammer._

 _I can vouch for us when he examines me. Maybe he will spare you two then._ Myra offered. Suddenly Eragon gasped and fell to a knee, face contorted in pain. Stretching her mind towards Saphira her mental voice carried her worry. _What is happening?_

 _That foul creature,_ the blue dragoness hissed at the bald man, her voice strained, _is sifting through Eragon's memories. I am trying to obscure everything concerning your home and abilities, I leave it you three what you will or will not conceal._

 _Thank you._ Myra said before pulling away, explaining her plan to the others, who quickly agreed on the course of action. Meanwhile, Eragon shuddered, swayed, then fell toward the floor. Strong arms caught him at the last second, lowering him to the cool marble. He heard Orik exclaim from behind him, "You went too far! He wasn't strong enough for this."

"He'll live. That's all that is needed," answered the bald man curtly. There was an angry grunt.

"What did you find?"

Silence.

"Well, is he to be trusted or not?"

The words came reluctantly. "He . . . is not your enemy." There were audible sighs of relief throughout the room.

Eragon's eyes fluttered open. He gingerly pushed himself upright. "Easy now," said Orik, wrapping a thick arm around him and helping him to his feet. Eragon wove unsteadily, glaring at the bald man. A low growl rumbled in Saphira's throat.

The bald man ignored them. He turned to Myra, priestess drawing back slightly. "It's your turn now."

A/N: Cliffhanger, I know it sucks. But this chapter had become bloated and unwieldy (nearly 8k words), so I am splitting it into two parts to allow the pieces to flow better together. And now for the apology. It has been almost two months since I updated, and for that I am deeply sorry. I could cite many things: my recent move across country in preparation for university, my google drive deleting much of the chapter during a software update two weeks ago, or my own work on other stories. But ultimately, they are all excuses. I took far too long on this chapter, and I promise that I will do my best to bring the next ones to you quickly. I hope you all enjoyed, don't forget to follow/favorite/review/recommend to your friends, and see you in the next one, o readers mine.


	9. AN: Question and Thank You

Hello o readers mine, sorry that this isn't the chapter you all likely expected. Said chapter is getting done soon, but today I have a question to you all. It doesn't feel right for me to not have a image for this chapter (it defaults to my pfp), as even for my one-shots I like to have something there. So, do any of you have any good images/artwork that you think would be a good cover picture for this story? If you do shoot me a PM with the image so I can see it, the help is very much appreciated.

Now before I get back to work on the next chapter, I just want to thank you all for your support. 3 Ripples just crossed the 2k view mark, something I never could have dreamed of occurring from a small and seemingly stupid idea in my drive. So, I thank you all for your continued support, it means the world to me. Mindbreakers 2 is on the way, and I'll see you then, o readers mine.


	10. Apology

Hello o'readers mine...its been a long time. For that I am very very sorry, but I come with an explanation and update. Since the last major update I have started my first year of university, and it has been hellish thus far. I have had absolutely zero time for writing most weeks, and coupled with a major downturn in my mental health I lost all desire and ability to write for any of my stories. My current plan is to finish and upload Chapter 9 by Sunday December 2nd or the next weekend after that. Again, I would like apologize profusely for this, I know how frustrating it must be to not get updates for such a long time. I will try to do better going forward, I do want to continue this story.

Since it has been a while, I'd like to extend my everlasting thanks to Neocene, Loktar, Admiral Clearwater, DEad Soul Angel, draco2306, Protheus, NineKings, simba71999, Kylevalheru, RED Roman Pyro, Aksis, .9 and mbh040 (plus anyone else I missed) for favoriting/reviewing/following, it means a lot.

See you in the next one,

Serpent


	11. Important Update: Rewrite

So yeah...long time no see o readers mine. Life takes a toll huh? University has been a wild ride with the end of my first semester the course of my second, along with my outside life and my SO. Thus I've found myself working less and less on my writing, and almost completely forgetting this story in the process. Thus, I felt it was wise to return to it...but I found myself really unhappy with a lot of it in hindsight. After reading through all your lovely reviews again and talking it over with my SO, I've decided to rewrite this story. The revised first chapter is going up at the same time as this, so please check that out. I will do my best to update it alongside my Star Wars fic.

I apologize profusely to all those that I left waiting for so long only to pull this move, but I think it is best for the story and hope you will give me a chance with the rewrite.

Many thanks,

Serpent


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